piitou
When the night fell down on to your eyelids, I closed the door and sighed. No matter what, I couldn't let anyone hurt you like that ever again.
"Rise to your feet, servant", he exclaimed suddenly and furrowed his brows as if he was angry at something.
"Yes, My Lord", I answered humbly and bowed slightly as I rose up and lifted my gaze up to meet the yes of my king. The eyes, with the darkest black and the most shimmering blue in the world, in them.
It was in the bookshelf. The book, his diary with all the secrets in it. All his confessions and hidden desires. It was all in there. Everything, captivated into that small black book, marked in with mystic little letters and sly symbols.
He always knew what he wanted, when he wanted and especially how he wanted things to happen. It was just way too easy, to wriggle those puppets on the strings and smirk in such way that made all those people to fall down on their knees and bow.
He had that kind of effect to them, and he loved the power it brought him.
He was truly an egoist. Narsistic even. When he woke up, he had to look into the mirror and grin. Handsome son of a bitch. Almost literally.
No wonder all the women and men fell for him, all the time.
The digital noise. Electricity that runs through your head. Your insomnia makes you go down on your knees, makes you plead and scream and crawl on the ground like a dog you really are. Go to your master and ask him to appease your restless mind.
A fool. That he was and nothing else. However, even though he made his mistakes and messed just about everything up without even quite noticing it by himself, there still was this someone who loved him no matter what. And it was all he needed.
He was easy to approach. He smiled, he laughed, he sparkled like a diamond on the muddy ground.
It was easy to fall in love with him. Unfortunately I was not the only one. There were many of those who wanted to be the ones he would like to talk to. There were many who loved him just as much as I did.
And there were so many broken hearts, just like mine, as the news reached us. The news about his saddening, lonely death.
He was the one with the winning cards. He was the king of the chess board. He was the one, who was going to win this game, no matter what.
The game of hearts.
He hated chocolate. He hated everything sweet and messy and everything that could make him feel as sick as exactly that dreaded chocolate made him.
But when he could taste that overly-sweet flavour from those certain lips, it was not so bad after all.
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writing since 2011 · 20 entries · 20 days shown up
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hatedlovedcowardlovekneesstaynightbettermattereasyheadflyinsidefeelingtrulyperfect