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I’m a bad man, but I won’t be her monster. No. I want to be her savior.
Though something is off with the left one. Instead of a black pupil, it’s completely blue, giving his eye an almost translucent effect.
A means to an end. Yet I fear she’s meant to end me.
Husbands don’t hurt their wives the way I want to hurt her.
“I want you so badly, it hurts to breathe without you near,” he whispers softly, finally—finally—gracing me with his voice.
“I call you my rose because for you, I would take all your pain so you would suffer none,” I tell her softly. “I would go through hell for you. Die for you. Do anything you asked. I love you, mia rosa. More than you will ever know.”
“Nothing could compare to the likes of you, my love. You are the most beautiful flower and the rarest gem, more breathtaking than any of earth’s wonders.”
“I would follow you anywhere, Genevieve. If you were standing at the edge of the earth and wanted to fall, I would only stop you long enough to take hold of your hand so I could go with you. There isn’t a life where I wouldn’t be your phantom, or a death where I wouldn’t be your reaper.”
“You think you’ll scare me—that you’ll make me scream. Yet screaming for you is exactly what I would love to do, Ronaldo.”
At this moment, he’s a tool, and I will use him as such.
“That’s it, baby. You’re doing such a good job. Let me see how pretty you look when you come all over my fingers.”
But if this is madness, I don’t ever want to be sane.
hard truth is that he won’t stop gambling and drinking. And I won’t stop my love affair.
a lobotomy couldn’t even carve me out of her head.
“Does my cock scare you, mia rosa?”
What is patience when I am feral with the need to be filled?
I’m an evening primrose, and he is the moonlight. Beneath his touch, I unfurl for him as if he is the sole reason I breathe.
“You beg for me like a whore, Genevieve,”
“A python wrapped around your throat and holding you still for me while I feast on you and fuck you. It would be a dream of mine.”
“The only waterfall I’m interested in is the one I’ll be drinking from between your thighs. Now face forward and bend over the railing, mia rosa. I won’t ask you again.”
“Does one stand beneath a waterfall expecting to breathe?”
In life. And in death.
May 16, 1946 I love you, Ronaldo. With every beat of my heart and every fiber of my being. I love you so much. Not even death can take that away from us.
