painted a white rose with blood| nomin

8 1 11
                                    

Love hurts. That's what I've been told.
Love drives you mad. It makes you do things you never would have done.
It kills you on the inside, and shows you how weak you are. It really hurts.

And I've experienced it for real.
Here, as I walk out of my apartment, feeling soulless, nothing more than a body with a bleeding heart. I bite my lip to stop the rush of tears as I think back to what happened minutes ago. In our shared apartment was Jeno, who packed all his stuff and told me it was all over.

I guess I bit down too hard, because I tasted the blood in my mouth. The metallic taste showed me just how harsh life could be.
I was too numb to feel anger, too numb to feel anything, nor think, but I found myself getting in my car, and throwing my cap on.

But it hit me.
The car. That's where we shared our first intimate moment. A moment where both of us were just unruly teenagers. It was a first for both of us, or at least for stupid me who believed it really was his first. Yet, it was a memory that I recall so vividly, as though it happened just yesterday.

Despite the pain, I smile at all the memories we shared and think back to how I really did love him, and how it seemed like he did too. Could it all have just been lies?

I turn the car engine on and hit the road, having no clue where I was going. I just wanted to get as far from here as possible. As far as the fuel of the car could burn, pushing this vehicle away from a place I once called home. I wanted to escape.

I think back to how I left him. Knife buried deep in his chest, blood pouring. Next to his motionless body were the roses he gave me every time he apologized. The once white petals now drenched in blood.

Love really does drive you mad, doesn't it?

Dedicated to the cloud to my rainbow and sky.(I don't remember your username)
Not the best thing I've ever written, nor is it actually what I had in store for you— I have a lot of things, but I don't feel so happy about any of them. So here you go, a short shitty cliche story. But I tried.

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