“You are a monster.”
I stand, 5’3, dripping with blood, covered in it.
“You feel so good.”
I lay, on a king-sized bed, as you slip inside my sticky, warm pool of pleasure.
“You are my person.”
I sit, at a luxurious restaurant, as you look at me with admiration.
“I think love you.”
I zoom out, as I register the words that came out of your mouth.
I haven’t heard those words in so long, I forgot how I’m supposed to feel.
I forgot that a human like me isn’t capable of loving another being
“I think love you.”
The Paramour 