Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ONE ✃ THE BEGINNING FOR THE END.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Pieces Of Diaries Unsuspecting Sender
𝕺ur story, sweet as honey, was born by mistake.
Little girl with sparkling eyes. Hands of clay. What have you done to me? I feel so dirty, with these sick, cynical eyes that call your attention. It feels wrong. Like everything I do. But I noticed you by chance, child. I remember by heart your little green dress, and how I had offended your ego because I had dared to claim it was unsuitable for you. Was I not right? You deserve better! I was only being loyal to you. You've been sulking all evening, Marylin.
You didn't have to.
I was there for you.
I'll always be here for you.
But you preferred to avoid me, to get drunk like an inexperienced infant. Using the card of your youth against me won't get you far. I will always be there for you. And you cannot avoid me. I'm in your blood like ointment.
As for afterwards, you're a woman of easy virtue. Because you explicitly asked me to take off your panties and suck you to the peak of your system.
I did. It was nice. I love you. Don't ask me why.
𝕿his childish love that stings, insinuates its thorns into the flesh and pierces it. I want to stop thinking about you, but love is so bitchy. It hurts so much. Why? Little girl, you can only laugh? You look so young, I who believe in this feeling consider myself a decrepit old man.
But you enjoy it?
What do you feel?
This childish love that stings, drives out its thorns from the flesh and cradles it. I would like to stop believing I have you, but love is so simple. Sometimes it's good. Why?
Young girl, do you love laughing?
You always look so cheerful, mix me your joy.
But you want to give it away?
What do you think?
This childish love that stings, wraps its thorns around my flesh and embraces it. I long for your touch, but love burns. Sometimes it freezes our hearts. Why? Hateful child, what do I have to give you for affection? With others you joke and talk, but I am closed in on myself and do not equalize between joking and teasing. But what taste do you take in it? Can you be so stingy with everyone?
This childish love that stings, tightens its thorns around your flesh and makes you breathless. This is what you manage to do to me, and love continues to suffocate me. You almost always leave me breathless. Why?
To call you a little girl now seems like an understatement, because you should grow up and give me the opportunity to love you.
But I don't understand you at all, you drift away and finally return. Can you even joke about this delicate subject? As delicate as love?
𝕾ometimes Marylin returns. She's a dream girl. She deserves a dream world. But she's gruff. And she won't open up to me unless she's under the influence of alcohol. I know almost nothing about her. A few phrases said under the covers late at night. But it doesn't count. When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.
I understand that with her you need indifference.
But I'm not good at that.
''I can't give you what you'd like,'' comes out of my mouth like a snort, as I tentatively slip my trousers on. I fix my hair agitatedly. She is good at it. She watches. Like a predator. She gets out of bed, throwing down her long, almost filly legs, perfect, with a few tattoos scattered all over. She arranges her fringes, and it takes all my goodwill not to stare at her boobs on display.
"Does that occur to you after months of dating?" she says. I don't understand.
I am flustered. She walks over, reaches for me, pulls a lock of my hair and rolls it around her finger.
And she has always been like this. Mute. Never understandable. Anonymous. It had always suited me.
Our story began more or less like this.
Alone. Suspicious. On point. Almost silent. And I still burned for Marylin.
