ever since i can remember, my heart has been stolen by a big, bad wolf-boy. i had fallen prey to his big, brown puppy-dog eyes. i thought myself in a fairy tale or at least under a spell- his spell, as he could make me feel as weightless as a feather and as bright as the bluest of sunny skies. he always had me believing, day-dreaming that by the end of the dusty road, he would either transform in appearance or deed. sadly no dwarfs neither fairy godmothers nor glass or ruby slippers could be found by my side at the grand finale. there is only me left, teetering on the edge of a highway railing, acting oblivious to my own complete breakdown as i balance myself off the feelings of brokenness and utter defeat. he has no skin beneath his breathtaking display of feathers and scales. his glossy, watery eyes will never have any tears to shed for me, for it has always been my delusion alone that has given his stone-cold soul life- one which he could have cared less for in the first place. how is it that my soul can tell me that him and i are not just worlds but whole solar systems apart? will there ever come a day where him and i will share the same temperature, the same shelter and source of strength?
ever since i can remember, my heart has always found the foolishness to forgive him over and over. i can never understand why it is so, why his every move and every glance feel like a stolen moment from summer's dream- beautiful and burning in the back of my mind, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, like a beach song, an ocean ode. how come he is always so perfect in my eyes despite all of his lies? why is it that at a whisper of his voice and a glimpse of his smile do all my worries so easily expire- even though he has always been, to begin with, the main cause of my misery, of my sleepless, peace-less nights on end. why is it that the thought of his back turning against me frightening enough to make me want to tie my body to a boulder and sink myself to the bottom of the deepest ditch in the oceans? tell me, wont he please spare me? has he always taken my torment as a hobby, as if i was a deck of cards, of lined up dominoes that he builds up into a tower, into a trail, only to quickly crumble at the commanding crook of his mouth and pursed, cursed lips. has he always just stood there smiling, listlessly watching my wreckage unfold?
ever since i can remember, my heart has continuously allowed itself to fall victim to his evil schemes. even though my heart already knows its place- as but another pawn in his chess game- it still heeds to every sigh, hi and bye he bids me. i wish i could look him straight in the eyes and not instantly spill like some sort of semi-fluid substance- what i imagine a soul should resemble- except invisible to the naked eye. he has stripped me of all weapons, all armor, and has also stolen along the sheath of my sword. somehow i know how this act is his signal, his way of telling me to simply surrender, for him and i both know i have always been fighting a losing war. i doubt he will ever give me a chance to unchain myself from his selfishness and possessiveness, for I am a toy that has yet to tarnish, or so it seems. i doubt i will ever be able to accept the idea of one day losing the position and strength to reach out to him, the taste of him, and the touch of his skin on my tongue and fingertips. i'd rather be incinerated to cinder by him than ever find myself tossed aside like trash, like an inanimate object that never truly bore any sort of significance, without the least bit of sentimental value, as unworthy enough for even some sort of storage space in the attic of his hushed heart.