I Lied.

I kissed your lips and whispered to your soul. It was an echo of sorts, the way it resonated, loud and lingering, going nowhere except straight to your head. Your head that tried to push the thought away, tried to forget that I had uttered those words. Because those words were painful, to finally hear the truth caused the death of your bliss and awakened the world of deceit that you now had to bear. Lucky me, huh? The power of destroying your world you could have given to anybody and you chose me. Me. The person who wanted the power the least but desired your pain the most. I didn’t have to lift a hand, I haven’t had to strike your face. I never needed to use insults that would cause yourself to be displaced. I just had to caress your arm, brush your cheek, hold your neck. I just had to murmur lies of your beauty in your ear, softly, no louder than a breath of air you know was never good for you in the first place. All I had to do, was fix you from being broken. Just so that I could break you a second time. Except now, you were never going to be fixed again. I had broken that too. Your trust for someone else to fix you was now gone too, gone forever. I would say I’m sorry but those five words had already said enough. I kissed your lips and whispered to your soul, “I don’t really love you.”