A study, of words, in crimson, sometimes blue, rarely yellow.

Her Curse.

A tear spills into her lap,
A moan is strangled at the edge of escape,
A hurt is swallowed before it gets unbearable,
A curse is accepted for the length of existance.

She sat on the same bench, in that corner of the park, under the same tree & imagines…

What if he hadn’t said those things?
What if she hadn’t let him out the door?
What if his promises had been true?
What if her love had been strong?
What if…?

It is of no use, thinking of him anymore.
It is of no use, wanting him anyore.
It is of no use, crying for him anymore.
It is of no use, she knew that a bit too well.

Still, the tears were too hard to hold back on that day, & the pain was a bit too much to ignore.

& with every breath she took,
& with every word she uttered,
& with every gesture she made,
He became a bit more a part of her,
Even though she thought she was ready to let go now.

She can’t love.
She can’t feel any emotion.
She does not know herself anymore.
She is nothing more than another body for his soul to dwell in.

He was her truest love.
He is her eternal curse.
& not a day she shall spend, without the essence of his being wrapped all around it.


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