I feel it.

That small seed of doubt.

I feel it.

That sapling as it grows, whispering negativities in my ear.

I feel it.

As it wraps its vines around my heart, a false kind of love.

I feel it.

As it takes over my brain, manipulating the world around me.

I feel it.

As it runs through my veins, turning red to black until there’s nowhere to hide.

Will you be my pesticide?

You had me.

Completely.

From the very start. And you knew it.

It’s strange; how different you are to me now.

But, how foolish of me to believe a conman’s pitch?

But, how could I not?
It was the best kind of lie; one I wanted to believe.

My heart stopped beating each time I looked at you.
How could I overlook my own cardiac arrests?
Your tongue was so smooth, I didn’t notice it was forked.
Your words sounded so good, I didn’t realise they could be false.
I fell so hard, that I didn’t even think that I could hit the ground.

But, of course, I hit the cold concrete.
In fact, I crash every time I remember your face.

Because sometimes the cruelest of liars are the easiest to believe.