She wasn't unusually happy, nor was she sad.
She was more in between those two things than anything else.
When days got unusually hard, she'd use some liquid courage to get her through the day.

Her eyes glazed over and lost their mirth,
Her tongue morphed into one of a serpent; perfect for slicing my skin with her angry words.

In that moment I could see her her true nature, the one that loved to use her mouth before her mind to bruise my heart.

The one who couldn't stand on two feet, or properly count to ten without messing up.

The one who was under the influence of the devils nectar; sweet and savory, yet poison.

She wasn't a human in that moment.

No, she was a puppet.
A puppet who wobbled, and slurred.
A puppet who was swaying to the devils melodic tune; going only towards the dark side.

What happened to the woman I once knew?
Was she lost between heaven and hell?

It was because he was mine,
and I was his,
and we were each others.

We ignored the pain,
and the sorrow.

We didn't think of ourselves as poisonous,
or treacherous.

We were the epitome of youth,
and love,
and hope,
and home.

And in my heart I knew that one day I wouldn't be with him anymore.

I would turn to my lover and whisper between kisses,

"I remember the first boy i ever fell in love with."

or

I would turn over to my lover in-between kisses and whisper,

"I remember the first time I fell in love with you."

And god ****** did I hope it was the second one,
because he was mine,
and I was his,
and we were each others.

If I think about you even for a moment, all of it comes back.

The tears running down your face, staining your porcelain skin,

the screaming that left your throat raw and bleeding,

the late nights trying to convince you that it'll be okay,

but all that was for nothing,

your gone now,

and I'm free from it all,

but I'm also numb.

Numb all over.

c.r.k.

Maybe it was the way the sun caressed the land below it,
or the way the clouds danced together across the sky.

Maybe it was the way the wind whispered its greatest secrets,
or the way the flowers stretched their arms in the warm spring air.

Maybe it was the way he danced in the meadow;
so care-free and alive.

Maybe it was the way he looked at me;
like even God was blinded by my beauty.

Maybe it was the way he held me;
like someone was going to ****** me up at a moments notice.

Maybe it was the way he loved me;
strong and firm like an oak tree,
wild and free like the waves crashing against the shore,
loyal and passionate like a king fighting for his kingdom's safety,
soft and caring like a mother to her newborn child.

Maybe it was the way I loved him;
more than any words in any language could ever express,
more than any action could express.

Maybe it was the way these things made me feel happiness.

Maybe it was the way they made me feel okay.

c.r.k.

Every soul is born pure.

It's the selfish actions, and the unkind words,

the angry glances, and the malice filled minds,

that fell like ashes and slowly, but surely,

darkened all the innocence.

c.r.k.

every time he didn't answer, i died a little inside.

Maybe he's busy,

saving a life,

dancing in the rain,

falling in love with a stranger,

kissing in cars,

climbing a tree,

writing a novel,

driving to Disney,

but all he was doing was forgetting me.

c.r.k.