Falsified Love

Sitting on the soft couch with my girl in my arms, her warm searing comfort surrounding me, embracing me. A barrier from her true self; a sort of, mask, hiding her identity from me, hiding the Mr. Hyde of herself, hiding the cool burning of the love slipping through her fingers. Each time, “I love you” meaning less and less. Each time, the soft gentle kiss, becomes even more meaningless, unimportant; Each hug, just a hug, nothing greater. Gazing into her eyes, I see despair, dullness, a dying life, only held on by a small thread, Of my addiction, my dependence, my obsession for this soft gentle demoniac emotion covering itself until it has me in its grasp. Then, revealing to me, it’s true state of Evil, burning, falsified love, smeared into my mind, uprooting my brain, engulfing, intruding with its tremendous speed like a spore, a tumor, cancer in a matter of days. Slowly torturing me until I cannot take it any longer, then ripping it away, and leaving me, with cuts, bruises, gashes, turning to scars over time, but leaving me with the thoughts of, what could have been; what would have been; what should have been, but wasn’t. Of what was interrupted, twisted, distorted by, Falsified love.