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Spoilt

How can I make you love me again?

 

Is it like that time when I first cooked you dinner?

And I spoilt the custard.

I sifted it and you tried to stir it.

I added more vanilla, cream, sugar.

It still tasted burnt.

Is that what has happened?

Are we burnt out?

 

You say we need to stop fighting.

I say we need to stop fighting this.

We discovered something so delicious, so

Pleasurable, and so....good.

But Love is poison.

 

I am poison. A black widow,

prepared to take out revenge on

all the **** that man has given me.

I am a wave of anger with no

thought to who stands in my way.

Even you.

 

I will drive a bullet into my heart

and into yours.

The hearts that are mine.

 

So will you love me again?

 

The creator of spilt tears?

Spilt blood?

And spoiled custard?

 

Don't speak, be mute.

I know.

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Written by
victoria-reese
English
Published
Jan 20, 2010
Lines·Words
28·155
Permission

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