Cooper

     His skin smelled vaguely of broken vows and broken hearts. He smoked, not because he thought it was cool, or because he liked it, but because he was addicted. He had been addicted to many things in his life, most frequently, love. He was infatuated with the taste of a woman, and it didn't very much matter to him which woman it was. He had no filter and no limits. He was intimate in the most awesome sense of the word. He invited people into himself and explored them thoroughly before getting bored and moving on. He had seen the mind and the body work together and knew that the latter was the more powerful of the two.

     He was small and meek and demanded pity. He was selfish and arrogant and saw the world as a means to an end. He ruined people, because he was alluring, and prone to fantasies, and they were weak, and eager to fall in love. I envied him, because he had what I wanted. He knew sex, he knew art, he was engaging, and he was beautifully broken by his own account.

     I had known him for three years before I met him. Through the eyes of one who loved him I saw the truth of him. I could no longer envy him, yet I still attacked his shells. I wanted him to love me in some way. He didn't, but he pretended he did. He ruined people. Because he didn't see the irony and he asked of us to forget our own. Because his words were honest to his heart, and his heart was seductive in its chaos.

He wrote beautiful poetry, riddled with spelling mistakes. He was brilliant in his astounding stupidity. He read deeply and understood shallowly. He hated those who loved him, and loved those who hated him.

     He was one of the worst people I'd ever known. I think about him a lot. He's still around, but I can't look at him. I hate him. I hate myself for having loved him.

     He ruined people. Because he was broken, and they wanted to be.