Love is madness.
Love is anguish.
Ours was ill-fated from the beginning.
From best friends, to almost lovers, to this.
We were poetry. The kind that bled and wept.
We’d become a mess of euphoric bliss and mind-numbing pain.
I promised to follow him until the bitter end, but after far too long I needed to go home.
The odds would be stacked against me in every way.
He’d come after me, of that I was sure.
Many would lose their lives, becoming casualties in our war.
When this was all said and done, our story would be one whispered in dark corners for years to come.
A tale of a wolf pursuing a lamb, but with a masochistic twist.
For even lambs have teeth, and this one bites back.