Bruised

There’s a fine line between love and hate. Potent passion and desire exist in both.

Equally powerful and equally destructive.

But when love breeds hate, it’s the very blackening of the soul that succumbs to the devil.

I have that black soul, my heart now withered and shrivelled, and I have the devil blowing his fire through my veins.

I don’t shy away from the pain. I embrace it, smiling as with one final puff of his lungs, the devil sweeps the last vestiges of love from my loins. My heart is cold, hardening into stone, but I am ablaze with a confident hatred and it fuels the smirk that now resides upon my face.

The love was there and it was long.

Now it’s gone.

I am bruised.

But I am strong.

And though I hate now, I will love again. And when I do, the gods of good and evil will wage war within my body and dual with an unbridled passion that has never before been felt. A battle to the bitter(sweet) end.

 

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