Letter's to an Angel

...;

I'm surprised you didn't get scared when I told you I was like her.

The type to beat you up, until your body was bloody and manipulated into distortion, until the blood formed in pools under your skin in purple and yellow bruises, until the cuts and gashes reeked putridly stale, until you eyes swelled from the salty tears, until your throat burned from pleading... and then I'd kiss you.

I could do it, too.

I dreamt it.

I dreamt it, and I was alive, it was the most intoxicating and dangerous feeling my whole body had ever felt. I was buzzing all over. I woke up next to you and saw your eyes flickering underneath closed lids.

I bet you weren't expecting anything like that from me.

I am capable.

People push me to prove it. Their eyes are lusting for me to just do it, to just grasp your neck in my fingertips, and squeeze until your windpipe shatters into oblivion, and you fucking choke to death on your own oozing blood.

How fucking ironic.

I'm getting way too worked up over this.

I shouldn't.

The more I think about it the more real it seems.

The more I look at you the more real it seems.

I'm probably going to rip this up before I ever show you.

Wouldn't want you to worry your pretty little head.

Afterall, I love you, remember?

Forever.

Sincerely, always,

...