Imagination

12am and I still can’t sleep.
I imagine lying down beside you, your arms around me. I imagine you kissing my forehead while I close my eyes, your breath ticking my nose. You slowly lull me to sleep, making me smile all the while.
But in the end it’s all just an imagination.

In the end you’d still be ten feet below me, together with your slut of a mistress. Bloodied, and never meant to be found. Just like the knife with my prints on it.
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Scaredya didn’t I? (insert evil smile)

26 thoughts on “Imagination”

  1. Isn't it just wonderful how writing can help release your frustration over anything? I once wrote a story in high school that ended rather violently. Had I written it today, I would have been expelled and put in prison for "terrorist threats." Back then, my teacher just said "well that was violent, but beautifully written!"

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