Trying to understand.
Why so many time those soulless ghosts seem a lot more fitted to contain a fully functional heart.
It's similar to the relationship between an empath and a narcissist . Obviously the empath in his naivety will try to fix the narcissist, but all he will do is to become a sponge that will swallow all of the negativity and willing imperfections.
If you were a ghoul from the start I probably dropped my expectations on your canvas of wine, and confused you for divine instead of just fine.
It was nothingness you offered wanting to express more and offer less.
Your name didn't open up any gates, not even the ones of memory it was just a weak attempt at a temporary love.
A love ephemeral like a headless beast that feeds on hidden desires, on what is dark, on what is bleak, on the things that we said to each other when we did not speak.
Casually you left, like before, you left your wine on the table and my heart in a heart shaped glass right on the edge.
Oh how I wish it would have broke, on the last minute that we spoke.
But the glass broke somehow inside of me, inside of that unparalleled universe where you took me.
The glass broke inside my escape and inside our moment, shame but I don't want to recreate you.
Not even fragments of you.
And so she left. His doll of glass with eyes of wine as her compass.
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