Her Toxin

- If Love Was Labelled Poison -

Love is poison to me. 

Of course at first, I did take petite, baby-sized sips. Then the second that I matured to be comfortable with knowing that she desired me, I told her that I adored her before my lips sealed a tight O shape around the bottle. Allowing myself to then chug what was left of the concoction before gazing up at her with dreams of the future written all over the palms of my hands.

I'd been blinded by how wrinkles would form by her eyes when she saw me and how she said she held butterflies in her stomach whenever I was near her. She said that she felt that I enchanted her every single time that we made love. That I was the cause for her lustful gaze and 'I missed you more' kisses. Pheromones lingering between us commanding our spark. Knowing what I know now, I feel as though those butterflies should've been a colony of wasps so they could've done the service to her stomach that it deserved instead of the charming twist she gets there when the butterflies take her off of the edge and into the destination that both me, her and her 'other girls' know that she wants to be at so badly.

She made me believe that young love was a form of heaven. She made me believe that we'd never suffer any scars through love and war, that all our arguments-they meant nothing of course. 'None of it matters'- she'd often tell me, as a cigarette drooped like a fairy light from her mouth, for we were forever scarless. She was keeping me naive to the fact that we were newly freshmen and felt like we ruled New York's 32-mile radius. I was so attracted to everything about her, her smile, her voice, yet combined those were what killed me.

A lot of things that she did...they didn't do a great job at convincing and presenting love towards me. When you enter your apartment and hear the sound of desperation evident in the air and the clear sound of the heavy, uneven, needy breathing coming from where you know that you and your girlfriend sleep...it has an effect on you. Hearing her moan another girls name, over and over again, tore my heart apart and made my stomach drop whilst hers gave her sweet relief. How she managed to smile at me the second that I screamed at her that 'sleeping with other girls is not okay' being the moment that  I saw no future with her. She betrayed my trust.

How would I be able to trust someone enough again to be able to let them take a sip from there bottle? How would I even be able to find it in myself to sip the potion again for my own good? Fully having the knowledge now that it only kills you?

Part of me wonders if that's the reason that moving to London has done me so well. Wondering if it's to do with my pride that I had to push aside to be with my ex-girlfriend in the first place. Part of moving to London makes me feel like I can see my ex as a stranger again and makes it feel a little more manageable. No more dive bars, or the city park reminding me of our first kisses. No more walking past the old apartment that she cheated on me in...we're moving on. I have a new job. I'm getting my life together...finally.

No one seems ready to love here. No one seems to be holding their bottle of poison or offering their bottle to other people here. Everyone is running from it instead and no one asks about your past, they have no clue about my heartbreak. Oblivious to the fact that I have sipped out of that bottle. And it's comfortable here because no one is aware that my body and personality weren't good enough for my ex. There are no questions here, people aren't interested and it's refreshing.

All I know now is that this year, I have to fall in love with myself and certainly not somebody else. Yeah, 12 months is a long time, but it's already January the 2nd and I have to understand that under no circumstances can I find it in myself to dream up an idea of the ideal family life in my head.

VOTE. COMMENT. THE WORKS.

This book was once called F I N, I've decided to re-write it and really elevate the plot and so that I can really focus on improving the quality of my writing. Last year, when I wrote F I N, I wasn't the biggest fan of Cari, but since doing a project based on the ideas surrounding 'Wasted Youth' I naturally became a FLETCHER stan so decided that I wanna rewrite F I N, rename it and centre it differently to how I did before so that it focuses on her journey a little bit more.

SO...that being said, please stick around to see the story unfold.