Fake love is like real poison.
Isn’t it funny how something so fake like his love can result in something so real like my poison?
Every time he lies to me, I lie to myself and wish, pretend as if it were true.
His sweet words turn bitter.
How his fake love enters my veins and slowly begins to kill me.
As if his fake love is my poison.
Every time he lies, it cuts me deeply, much more than a knife ever will.
Slowly, step by step, killing me.
Sucking the life right out like a cancerous disease.
And yet why can’t I let go?
The poison expands within my body, killing every element, every cell.
Killing me, much like poison.
How his fake words and fake love results in such melancholy.
And if you must ask, “what is FAKE LOVE?”
I shall reply, “REAL POISON.”