Don’t trust me.
Don’t fall in love with me. Don’t even come near me.
I am beautifully broken, cracked at just the right places, ominously enchanting despite the wounds that set through time. All my scars are lined with convincing poetries, every bruise embellished with empathic backstories; and they can go as deep as you want them to. I will bleed my soul dry right in front of you, then refresh you with the tears we will both shed, until you are lost in my illusory vastness, where I can leave you without a word.
And your memories of me, together with the poems of hurt we shared, would rationalize the pain you’re feeling. You would be my defense for the crime of passion I committed. You won’t hold me accountable, and neither would I.
I would just leave you devastated, and maybe write us something beautiful after.