tell them we were hateful…
spiteful, devious, two timing,
double-crossing, obstinate, no good,
never listening, talking at, irresponsible,
incorrigible, lying, vindictive,
hostile lovers.
tell them we were the worst of the worst.
let them know all the dirty schemes,

rotten tricks, loathsome traps

and abhorrent crimes.

you should give lurid details to our most eloquent and especially deadly fights.
do not hesitate to paint our portraits with horns, hooves, fangs, or claws.
allusions should be given to demons, devils, and monsters.
when you recount our most despicable tale…
tell them how much gusto we each gave to the misery

and the pursuit of each other’s righteous embitterment.

but never forget to tell them that we were, in fact, lovers.
never, ever forget to tell them that.
it answers all the ‘why’s’, ‘what’s’, and ‘how come’s’.
the more fiercely you love…
the deeper the jealousy, ambition, and struggle

for complete dominance over the others heart.

when you fight, if you are not out for the kill or maiming
your love is a weak tea and stale biscuit.
Goodness can’t be found between two if there is not evil.
Redemption is obsolete and the forging of any Peace is laughable.
without a love that battle damages your soul…
Intimate Knowledge is a ridiculous idea.
When you tell them of us, 
know that epic romances were born from stories like ours.

I wonder if your lies eat away at you. They’re always the worst at night. When you’re in between the place of sleep and consciousness, I wonder if it kills you. Did you ever confess? Or do you let your sins boil deep down in a place that you have secured. You’ve made sure you don’t care, and you don’t care enough that you convince yourself that you did no wrong. Night is when I imagine reflective thinking to be at its peek. With your thoughts and memories replaying like a bad movie that’s stuck on repeat. The same scene will be vivid as anything, replaying again and again until its static. You know that terrible sound the T.V would make when you were little and you’d cover your ears until it stopped. You’re not little anymore, you can cover your ears, but you can never cover what your eyes have seen and what your hands have done.

(Source: holyhipbones)