she let him go, for he was that of a nightshade. and his heart almost as dark. she fought against the poison in her mind. she let him go.
however, she did not win. not by far, for traces of deep violet toxins laced themselves around her heart. roots like daggers had sprung amidst. she's poisoned, and she feels as much.
but there's lace, not of the dark decaying hue, but of white. white lace; pure. it tries to entwine her heart trapped by poison.
how must one rid themself of a tragic event before they become the tragedy itself? she would like to think she could just cut away the longing, but she longs for it.
you; her purity. you keep telling her you're falling and she smiles. she wants to say she's falling too but she's fearful she'll never rid herself of the poisonous glances she takes and the toxic thoughts she thinks.
how can she be falling for you, all the while still falling out with him? and how can she be feeling such pain at the thought of hurting you, while she's hurting you by regarding your pain?
you're perfect, her dream.
he's dreadful, her poison.
maybe the poison has to kill her; mad.
maybe she's already dead; psychotic.
