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you’re quiet tonight. it’s pleasant but unusual. dangerously so.
what can i say? a dog that bites its master’s hand is a dog that lives on edge. i would know.
but if my peace lies only in the silence i get in the absence of your violence, then i’ll take it. one and a million times over.
afterlife is built on fake dopamine anyway. mine on cheap booze, pretty eyes and some damn long legs.
maybe i’m too drunk for this. hell, maybe i’m too sober for this.
the static of your voice cuts right through the soft jazz. record scratch. bad omen.
an old open wound. one that never stops hurting. one that never stops bleeding.
breathe in. breathe out. here we fucking go.
i prepare to mellow the blow. pretend i don’t care. pretend i don’t mind. whatever makes the pain go away any faster.
but not enough to make little of your presence. we both know you get high on the fear in another sinner’s blood.
i would be an asshole to private you from the first row privilege to my suffering, now wouldn’t i? i mean, what are friends for?
“i believe an apology is in place.”
i nod my head without looking up. i know where i belong, after all.
in the black and blue underneath the fury of your fist. in the scum underneath the gold of your shoe.
“not from you. you were right.”
if i’m somewhat surprised, i don’t let it show. i don’t have to. you’ve grown to read me like not even my own father could. swing just like the old bastard, too.
“yeah? ‘bout what?”
takes you too long of a second to say it. like you can’t believe you have to admit it. out loud. to me of all people.
“mimzy.”
then it hits me. realization a bolt of lightning. unpredictable. striking. how could i possibly miss it? it’s written all over your face.
in the red of your eyes. in the twitch of your fangs. it was never about her. wasn’t it?
blonde hair. angel voice. serpent wit. seraphic beauty and demonic power. king of kings. the stormbringer in the flesh.
would you fucking look at that? i see it and i don’t believe it.
“you were distracted.”