How limiting is it to think you were the most beautiful thing I ever experienced? How vexing is it to me that all I believed was you were as good as they get? That there was no force greater than your love? So foolish I ‘am really. It’s sad though, at such a young age I’m basically spoon feeding excuses and your sugar coated lies down my throat. I’ve trapped myself in this twisted reality that your lips were the sweetest thing ever when I have not yet even begun to discover sweeter things. The reality of it is I’ve been swallowing down poison not sugar. And it’s you I feel coursing through my veins. Shutting me down, killing me off. Yet it was I who willingly drank those deadly toxins in such haste, as if I have been parched for days. My death is my own fault I suppose.