Otherwise.

You were callous.

I built walls around myself, not letting anyone or anything get the best of me. It was a subconscious action; a despondent effect of all the times we have shattered, shattered alone, picking up the pieces and each time the pieces seeming to get finer, seeming to turn into granules; harder to get back, blown easily by time and forgotten by space.

Apathetic.

You told me we felt the same. That these unmentionable bits and pieces have somehow found itself to you. You were a poetic prick who satisfied himself with the love that was fervently given. You collapse the walls down yet you don’t stop there: you choose to destroy and crumble until they believe and they soar. Until they’re happy. And that’s when you conquer. You callously triumph over their souls and break them into fragments of illusion; making them believe it was their fault, their fault.

Even when it was yours all along.

featured image is not mine. copyright belong to Keen Malasarte