I could kill her.
I could rip her heart out with my bare hands.
The profusion of her blood running down my hands would stir nothing inside me.
Except perhaps satisfaction.
I could break her.
I could drive her soul from her body
But only after dulling her shine, tainting her then unhinging her mind.
I could dance like The Fates as I cut her string, and set her upon her funeral pyre.
No dirge.
Not for this one.
She should push me.
I am young. Not quite as beautiful, not quite as bold.
I am to be the decoy, the story untold. The girl behind curtains, under shadows and at night.
She is the goddess, who walks with sunlight.
My darkness could envelope her,
Tear the sanity from her mind.
I could let my madness take her, limb, by fucking, annoying, limb.
I could kill her, my love.
But love.
I could also kill you.
