I'll Love You Forever
She breathes and asks; "Have you ever stopped to wonder, how we became so decapitated?" And during the earthless echo after her voice, the time when nothing seems to be real and all speech hangs inbetween now and then and what's coming next, he finds his answer in the barrel of a shotgun. The drunk down neck of some whiskey bottle as he romances nothings. She's gorgeous, again and forever, but he can't fight the nagging the ripping the tearing the belief in the back of his alcoholic addiction prone poor impulse control mind that she'll never put up with him. That she can't love all his faults and all his mistakes. The only thought to cross her coked out sex crazed self destructive mind is that he'll be the death of her. Not him though, only her love for him, her addiction as strong as the one she fuels with rolled up ones and white powder. And she writes bombs in her flesh with the razorblade meant for her cocaine and she's gotta bump a whole gram-ana-half of cheap shit cut with acetone to make the pain stop and the redness to ebb. Maybe they could make it- tragic romantic superstars akin to the cliché Romeo & Juliet have become. They could make it, if she didn't have a mistress to be there for her when he didn't come home some nights. A lady in white to romance her in the darkness when all the tears had dried up and the blood in her slash marks had crusted over. "Are you the one?" her eyes are penetrating depths reflecting the years of abuse and violence that mar her whitest skin. But the white lady can't sustain you forever and as she decays this girl's brain he notices and sighs. Love only turned him blind to the things that he always knew would happen. She was his drug, cooked in a spoon and shot into his junkie veins she turned the day into a black and white color chart. He proposed to her in the backseat of a car, hardly a proposal…no ring, no plan just a promise and a whisper and "No, I'm serious…will you marry me?" and her yes was sealed with a kiss and a flash of soft wet tongues. There was always this unspoken hope that they'd survive, they talked about the future, a beautiful daughter with a name that could conjure images of sex and mystery, skin chocolaty mocha and features sharpened to a beautiful height. It went against genetics but her eyes would be the bluest hue of pain. They almost believed they'd make it and maybe they would so they could kill each other in their own suburban dream, if distance didn't kill them first. They blew smoke, eyes focused on each other and he whispered that she overdid it as she burned cognac down her throat. More than she needed and she never told him that she liked not being in control, she liked passing out naked on the carpet eyes fluttering in her swimming skull. She liked the darkness. Ever since she was young she'd loved the junkie addicts, a thing for addiction, and thing for skeletons. Now that she had her own addict she was more than willing to become one. Hell, she already was one she already had blow stuck in her mind, so embedded in the grey flesh that she would even pass lies over her tongue in the same soft voice that she uses to tell him "I love you." He can't support her habit, not only in the monetary sense but in the fact that he can see the decay and post mortem ooze making its way out of her brain. Down her nostril. But if he took that away her one true snowflake love then she'd go for anything to get herself fucked up. Anything to forget her life before him. She'd drink the shit in gutters if it meant forgetting the time before. And she knows he sits there and wonders how he got the damaged one. You know, the ones that are so done, so burnt out. In need of a battery change. He's the only one who truly knows how shattered she is. "I'll love you forever" is the biggest lie ever written.