thing

From the first euphony uttered from your lips I was hooked. Flayed by your words I lay bare. My skin felt the crunch of your teeth as you pronounced your 'T's, chowing down on my vulnerability as if it were a quick snack between urgent appointments. Through the weeks that followed I grew septic. My exposed flesh gave home to disease and I welcomed it feebly, too afraid to fight it in fear that you'd see - see the side of me that deserved to be your equal. As long as I hid in your naivety I was safe, the maggots could nibble me away and I'd go quietly. Letting your existence consume me. Not like in the way I longed to destroy myself with your love. I'd explode in your arms like a firework. Awkwardly lit and fired at the wrong angle during a november 5th family celebration. I'd ignite all the wrong places and leave the witnesses screaming as I seared their flesh with my passion. I wanted to be a flurried disaster against you. To leave no survivors; have blood drenching us as we manically laughed amongst the wreckage. We'd use the limbs of our victims as pillows to lull us into a protected post-coital dream. 

But instead I stagnated. Alone. There only to boost your ego. I fumbled and fell, like a fawn on ice. The mighty wolf I was became dormant in your presence, she cowered in front of your brilliance; transmutated from predator to prey - as if faced with a nova whilst standing atop a dying star. My confidence faded into submission as I began to worship you. I was a gold star awarded to a finger painting. You were a masterpiece of the entire galaxy. I longed to journey to the centre of you, to be annihilated by the heat of your divine superiority. Instead I kept to the shadows. Offering support and suggestions when I could. Suppressing the screaming truth for so long that it took a form too repulsive to imagine. And then it met the maggots writhing within me, and together they dined on the last shreds of my identity; my remaining morsels of self respect. With their teamwork I was reduced to a husk. A shell. A shit smear on your horizon. My piteous state a curse I was delighted to be blessed with. As from my state of sub-existence I was free, to placidly watch the exquisite storm that was you rage.