She is the devil but I am praising her and I don't know why

Content warning: dark themes around love

Hearts are broken — sliced open and fed to hungry pigs. Pigs will eat anything. Their mouths bloody and wet. Digging around in the dirt and grass; one pig found mine.

Bodies don't function without a heart but it seems like mine was ripped out. Veins and muscles stringy and all over someones hands. A butcher. A knife welding being. A lover.

I read the book Romeo and Juliet. It makes me feel disgusting after fours shots of vodka and torn pages. Words scribbled out. They should be highlighted because from what I gather is that true love is not being able to be with eachother.

So I sit down with her. She is more focused on how she can hurt me more. Is it telling me she doesn't love me anymore? or it is she loves me too much?

What is it then?

Am I wearing rose tinted glasses if so she takes them off and pulls me into a kiss with my blood on her tongue. Blood is spilled — she laps it up and then I taste it again. It's a sick game yet — I love her. I deserve the praise she gives me but she will just take it away from me again.

Last night I saw the devil horns on her head. Wicked but evil. Alurring but scary. She is my lover. My love but I am not really, she repeats to me. I am her game and i play it willingly.

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