> "Some men don't touch your body. They crawl inside your head and redecorate it like a goddamn haunted house."
---
"You look thin."
"Because you're not feeding me lies anymore."
"That mouth will get you hurt."
"It already has."
---
He's leaning against the marble balcony of a luxury hotel, sipping espresso like he didn't break me. Like we didn't fuck in a church pew. Like he didn't fake a whole life just to get what he wanted.
I want to stab him.
Or kiss him.
Preferably both.
---
"You think I planned to fall in love with you?"
"You didn't. You planned to leave."
"And yet, here I am."
"You're not back. You're haunting me."
---
He lights a cigarette.
The flame glows on his jawline. I hate how pretty he looks.
Like a devil that takes off your clothes before he takes your soul.
---
"I should shoot you."
"I should let you."
"Why did you come back?"
"Because you didn't."
---
He steps closer. I don't flinch. I want him to see what he did. The mascara-stained cheeks. The hollowed eyes. The pretty girl who turned into something else.
"You miss me."
"I miss the man you pretended to be."
"You still dream about him?"
"No. I scream about you."
---
If he touches me, I'll fall again.
So I load the gun in my pocket with one hand.
And touch the ring on my finger with the other.
He doesn't know which I'll use.
And neither do I.
---