BARELY HOLDING IT TOGETHER

I can't describe her. Maybe if I was one of those poetic types I could come almost close, but I don't think anyone ever will. She's an angel with demon eyes or maybe the other way around. She's hot and cold and poison and sugar and light and dark and soft and hard and wonderful and terrible and bitter and sweet but always beautiful. She is the innocent flower and at the same time the serpent under it.

Obsession. That's a good word for her. She is obsession. She's like a broken doll. Perfect but entirely fucked-up. No one seems to understand that they have to be careful with her or they'll break her all over again. She's barely holding together as it is. I love you and I can't stand it. I want to tell her. I can't tell her. I don't know how. She's heard it all before. I wish I could have been the first to tell her any of these things, but of course other people fell under her spell before I did. Everyone does. I don't think I'll ever really warm her up. I feel cold and lonely without her. Like there's a part of me missing, and it's only been maybe six hours.

I told her I'd never leave her. I wonder if she believes me. I didn't want to tell her. I never saw a point. Two years. I knew I wasn't good enough for her, so why even bother? Except five days with her constantly by my side was enough to make my heart want to burst open. It almost did. I had to tell her. I told her. She knew. I think she knows everything. I think she knows me better than I do. Like her dark eyes can read my soul like a book. I'm not sure if she's real. Why do I get to hold Aphrodite while she cries? No one else with ever be Queen in my mind.