so he does not feel a thing,
dampen the flame slowly
with the handkerchief
still wet from lies and broken promises.
months mold into a new year
and before long,
behold the skeleton of a former man–
dried inside and out,
sullen, hollow eyes
that once glistened in your grace.
how to get away with murder?
you leach his happiness with every kiss,
burn his mind with fake smiles,
obliterate his soul
with your love.
disclaimer: the writer is no psychopath. just a writer, and you know how our minds are sometimes. not advocating for any of the above to be performed in any way, shape, or form. please love your fellow human beings ❤