The Disease

The twisted mind upon violet eyes reaped my heart of all its sustenance. I thought she would jump in joy and pronounce to the world:

          Yes, I do!

That was the lie of the rose-colored lenses. She was more malicious than I could have believed. After I emptied my soul, she grinned with devilish desires, her finger dancing along her red coated lips. I was a self-centered fool, believing that there would be something between us.

Her mind played with other dreams with other men. It didn’t matter, in the end, who they were or why. What mattered was how much I had played myself.

The spidery maliciousness that I had mentioned were nothing more than wounds upon her heart. I cried in my mind:

Why do you close off your heart?

Without realizing that I already know the answer.

Fated love is a prophetic dream that drives one to madness. So why can’t I let go?