It wasn’t a clandestine affair, what you and I had. It wasn’t poetry engraved on walls either. Still, I always knew you’d become a crest of shame and profound regret. They had warned me about the likes of you. But my madness was an art, and your love, a stage. And liberation...was an exciting taste. I soared with my eyes closed, destined myself to a crash, yet hoped. Hoped that something in you would be kind enough to not shatter my soul. Ah, I should’ve known…when I was granted an endearment so tainted, how could I ever be blessed with anything pure in the wake of it? Now my wretched existence is a sin, and the only reparation that stands…
“Oh, my lover, kill me with your bare hands.”
- Ariadne Sonder
Should I write Jeongcheol with core betrayal? Hmmm. Anyway, I guess I'm back to writing so...expect an update anytime soon...I guess? :p
