ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ

new years

and i loved with a love unforgettable and unattended
i gouged myself into smithereens and loved with the incapable
i loved the way he called me "my dear" and almost tattered his tongue when speaking it;
the creatures hissed and hushed symphonies in their chaotic tunes and delicate whispers.
i realized, i too, was made perfectly for such a love,
one capable of destroying utopias around us and interfering with the gods above us.
the way he sheltered his fist and his knives more than i
created rarity.
and the dandyism of such an obscurity could not replace those in the halls, who collect themselves to be the epitome of perfection; ones who desire to be chosen.
but, this is mine.
my true one, the one mutilated into the disfigured. the ghost of one i lost long ago.
the angel and receding devil.
maybe, it harms me when he plunges a knife stringed with haunted words; who turns me into something more, just like he did long ago.
sometimes i realize that the symbolism of such a knife, that resembles the reason why i shall eternally despise new years and turned joy into wryness. the distasteful reason on why i write and splatter my essence into these unsatisfying writings.
the reason why i have the meandering capability of stabilizing myself in certain rooms.
i loved the way he slit my throat with his devastating, grieving words.
it wasnt the happy new years i anticipated.