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Juliet's Ghost
I am baffled and enraged at the symptoms of emotions. They are simply an illness that could rot a soul from the inside out. It shows nothing but raw sights of love lost, and guilt from love gained. One could easily do without emotion- it simply complicates situations. Emotions are merely the middleman in a fucked up relationship. His old love notes become my new suicide letters. Periodically, words are woven in as a subliminal message. A meaning that is truly unknown, even to me - just a simple ranting of my own insanity.
As fate contemplates my existence, grief and bewilderment stare eye to eye. Neither wants to give in and blink first- Emotions are simply stubborn. As “broken hearted” tugs at one arm “relief” tugs at my other, both ripping my body apart until I'm numb to all mental and physical pain. Neither his words or my obsessions can hurt me any longer. Questioning if it was better off, I know my death will be positive.
I killed for his love, and it was a beautiful work of art. I am just angry that I wasn’t alive to see the final masterpiece. However, I can only imagine its pure simplicity. My pale face would never seem so fair. My blue tainted lips are more kissable now than ever. He can’t look into my eyes as they are covered by death’s veil. The creamy, crimson blood clashes greatly with my discolored flesh. Every drop and splatter would seem perfectly in place. True beauty collides with pure vulnerability. This could have been prevented if emotions didn’t intermingle. They only twisted words and caused misinterpretations.
