boys like me are vengeful.
we are creatures of terrible needs. needs we ourselves aren't aware of. needs that swallow us whole and then spill us out. leaving us crawling in the dark, eyes wary, teeth ready to sink into souls.
we are vengeful and then we're not. we grow tired of the game. we watch you with pity and laugh behind doors. we trace your skin with crusted nails and smile sadly at what we're about to do.
and then the light flickers on, shadows on walls and. oh and then the fun begins.
vengeful things like us are fascinated by you. your fanciful charm [IT NEVER WAS CHARMING WAS IT?]. your desperate need to feel alive. somehow. someone. anyone.
you made feeble attempts at wooing me [YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TRIED, I HAD MY SIGHTS SET ON YOU]. you tried so hard, i almost. almost.
smoky mirrors, darling. smoky mirrors for you and i to gaze into from either sides.
old, rusted locks, darling. rusted locks you brushed your delicate fingers against. and never felt them shudder with my depthless rage. you laughed, oblivious and i smiled back.
boys like me are like that. we smile and we're vengeful. we crush, we slowly pull apart the seams, we snip those threads away, we pluck the petals; one by one. and we fucking delight in it.
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