my thoughts, my writing

Poisonous addiction

There was once a man.
Him, who was addicted to the poison that was herself, has been only a game to her.
A marionette played by her.
Blinded and dependent on the drug he mistook for her love.
A bittersweet mischievous smile, coated in blood red prodoct of a lipstick, was worn by her when she toyed with him, for she knew how well she did in what she does.
Manipulation.
Some would only stare, but others would risk to tell him how dangerous she was, how they did not recognise him anymore.
Him laughing in return, caught up in his state of delusion.
He cut them off by explaining how they were never worth experiencing such greatness in feelings he is granted by his lady.
At night he refuses to rest for he feared to lose her by waking from his dream like slumber.
His constant desire and the marvellous energy she held within herself consumed him bit by bit until the last drop of life remaining in him vanished into the meaningless nothing of her very soul.
She won while for him it was over.
No one learned how, but that in fact only the cold dead body was left of a person that once was him.