mollyfolly
It burned, burned brighter than a summer bonfire, brighter than the sun and the stars and the fires of hell that licked at his toes but he couldn't stop. couldn't stop wanting. couldn't stop wishing and praying and clawing with shredded fingernails and bloody teeth to every last lingering memory. it was love. had to be. only love could hurt this much. only love could set his heart to agonizing flame and then leave him quivering and weak till there was nothing left but ash and despair.
Pull your hair out of your face dear, it makes you look unkempt. The salad love, not the fries, you really don't need the extra fat. You know beige brings out your bad skin honey, put on the black dress, it'll hide all that. Take those glasses off sweetheart, it makes your eyes far too big, and you don't really need them.
Suggestions? Orders. Degrading, spiteful, picks at everything I was to shape me into everything he wanted me to be.
just a sip. just one small, nearly non-existent mouthful and he'd be fine again. he just needed a taste. one last exquisite roll of flavor spilling over his tongue. maybe. maybe just one more glass than. not much more than a mouthful really. two or three was all. just enough to coat his stomach. to warm him from the inside out. to remind him of the good times. bourbon had always been his favorite after all. and then he'd do dry. one last drink and he'd be done. really.
It's strange the things people derive pleasure from. A person trips, a person falls, and the world laughs. A person stands up straight, a person does what is right, and the world shrugs and moves on. "Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and your cry alone."