My heart laid upon the floor shattered into a million tiny fragments. My soul forever cracked, slowly splitting apart. My intestines were a wreath around my neck. I spilled them for her.
I love her.
My life is such a pitiful waste without her in it. My body slowly rots as my mind simply withers away. My strength has left me. I had gave her my strength. I gave her my heart.
I need her.
Our love was a lovely flower. She killed it and chopped it to pieces. My breathes are shallow, horribly forced. There is no oxygen without her in the room.
I dream of her.
My love for you is as sharp as a cleaver and penetrates like a well aimed bullet. Knocking on the door, I sob. I need her so badly. Knife in hand, I enter.
She is mine.
My love for her is a stabbing wound. Blood spills on the carpet, a lovely crimson red. Her body is soft and tight. Her lips glowing with power. Her eyes had lost their light, but that doesn’t matter. Her stomach and entrails emptied upon the floor.
I adore her.