Stolen Love

The first day he set his eyes on me, I knew he was never mine. But I was the willing victim.

There was something about his eyes. Something I couldn’t and still cannot explain but the way they pierced through mine gave me a thrill l hate to love.

Right outside my favorite coffee shop, he drew nearer and nearer. My feet were tied, l wanted to run. My mind was racing, I couldn’t think straight. My heart though, my heart was right. He wasn’t mine. Never was, never will. Mind over matter? I guess not.

Dear lady in red, I stole him. I stole your life. But I wouldn’t admit it, because my pride precludes me. He doesn’t love me like he loved you. He doesn’t see me the way he saw you. But his presence makes all the sins worth it. Maybe he never was yours to begin with.

Dear lady in red, everyday is a gamble. My heart, it never stopped bleeding for a love I will never own. And if this is any consolation, then we both could live with our sins. I hope one day you find better. For he will do you no good. Meanwhile, I drown in my own blood, pick the pieces he’ll have left of me when he’ll be done, for his jar is almost full.


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