I stroke her pale, dead skin. Lifeless. I pretend I can feel her warmth; hear the heartbeat I claimed as mine.
But there is none.
She was perfect. Her hair was long and blonde, and I loved it. But I made the mistake of telling her so, and she cut it short. Tried to cut herself off from me.
She tried to love me. But she couldn't. It was my fault.
Not the prettiest of girls, or so she thought. She was too hard on herself. She favoured her darkness over her light. I never did learn all I wanted to know. There was no chance. She wouldn't give me a chance!
So beautiful; her pale, dead skin. Creamy, slightly tanned. I trace up and down her legs, over her hips and breasts. She hated being touched. But now I can touch her all I want, and she can't stop me.
I wanted to love her, but she wouldn't let me.
She was always so sweet, so beautiful, and kind. She tried to make me hate her, but she couldn't quite manage it.
So I forced her to let me love her.
I took her hands and tied them. I took off her clothes, though she struggled. She was beautiful; scared. Afraid of me.
She was always so hesitant.
Now she has no choice.
And I love her.
And I had wanted to kill myself but...
I wanted her, too.
Now we'll both be together; she and I.
She's so beautiful.
We can be together; she and I.
The way I always wanted.
(background: there is someone who claims to be in love with me, so much that when i rejected him he gave me a suicide note. fortunately, he's alive, and we're trying to work through it. just a scary little piece from his eyes, though i doubt he'd ever do that.)