Acidic Lies

The deceptive web of lies was set in motion by a simple false promise.  That false hope was delivered by such a skilled actress that I didn’t stop to consider the alternate meanings lurking in the depths.  

The first lie, “I’m not afraid of you”, could have just as easily been turned to describe her.  As simple, naïve, and innocent as she appeared to be, she held me in a never ending, captivatingly exquisite state of terror.  As frighteningly ghastly as I was, I never held such an absolute power over her as she did over me.  Any change in her easily swayed whim and I could be destroyed mercilessly and without proper reason.  She was free to annihilate me any way she desired.

The second series of lies, “I love you”, began to eat me alive.  All people know that vile monsters such as I are not fit for any type of affection.  My greatest yearning was to be truly loved by her for who I was, malformed and all.  When she began the horrific administration of these falsehoods, I at first craved them.  I spent hours upon hours attempting to please her in order to have my ears drink those three angelic words.  Those were the words that could heal everything.  Instead the words acted as an acid, a poison that wore me down bit by pathetic bit.  She beguiled me; when she wished for anything, she had only to utter those three damning words, and it was hers.  She only spoke them sparingly so as to placate me.  She said them more often, as time dragged by, and with each utterance, I knew her hatred for me had flourished.

The third step to my destruction was the touching.  She shuddered away when I endeavored to take her hand.  She allowed all other arms to envelope her but mine.  She would have rather bestowed a kiss upon a filthy, mangy rat than me.  I had only kissed her on the lips once.  Oh, what a triumph that was!  But alas, the moment did not last, could not last.  She froze, became as unmoving as a monumental angel under my hungry, dead lips.  She condoned a solitary show of greediness from her poor, unhappy dog, but she would have no more of the barbarity.  After that catastrophic blunder, she allowed me to touch her, but only if she was in a favorable mood.  She loathed me with all of her pure soul.  Not even while singing could she eliminate her scorn for my presence.

The final component for the explosive that would destroy me was the way she flirted and teased the damned handsome boy along.  She flaunted everything that he possessed or could do and everything I didn’t have and couldn’t do.  He had money…I had more than him…He had land…I had a fair amount…He had looks…that was the clincher, the one thought that ultimately murdered my soul, therefore killing me.