I check constantly for him.
For him to be on.
For him to have messaged me.
But every time, just like the last, it is no different.
For why would he ever want to talk to you unless he wants to use you for his own desires and needs.
And every time you fall into his little game.
Because you like him.
Because you love him.
But he feigns those loving words he whispers so gently in your ear.
For he only says such things after he has been through with you.
To keep you content and continually willing to keep his needs fulfilled.
For what is the difference of lust and love, when lust and love collide.
They mix like oil and water.
If one is only for lust, and one is only for love, then in the end, love is going to die.
I’m going to die.
For why would lust ever want to talk to love.
Love wants fulfilling things.
Love wants a life that can be brought home.
But lust is just like a dark monster beneath a radiant mask.
Feeding and consuming, never ending.
And I will be consumed like the rest.
For I know the game that is being played.
I knew who I was dancing with.
But I decided to look past and try to find something that was not there.
And now I realize my mistake.
For I have trapped love in a vice grip.
Slowly bleeding the life away from it as lust feeds from its agony.
Until eventually, there will be nothing left except a broken heart full of pain.
And I will be the only one who can bear it.
For I knew who I was dancing with.
But I decided to dance anyways.