Him And I

Prelude to Death

You can say what you want about me, but you didn't feel him. Not like how I did.

He was so very wrong, but so right. He was hell, he was evil, he was unforgivable in all his sins, but he was mine.

I thought that I hated him but I really just hate myself. I saw what was inside him and all of its rotten glory. What actually stood behind those blue cerulean eyes, and I loved it. In some sick twisted way I loved it, but I also loved him.

He was everything that I never wanted, yet everything that I couldn't live without. I never wanted more because he was always enough.

He probably didn't give two fucks about me but I didn't care. As long as I could be near him, it was always worth it.

The blood, the killing, the abuse, the pain. Agonizing pain. It was worth it.

Would I do it again?

In a heartbeat.

Cause if you felt him like how I felt him, then maybe you would too. Or maybe you wouldn't.

Maybe you're not a horrible person like me. Maybe if you peel back my layers you'll see what I see in him. Maybe we deserve each other, maybe I deserve everything that I got.

And that's sad, but it's also happy cause I got him for a little while.

And just maybe that's enough.