He's looking at me and smiling, obviously oblivious to what’s inside of me.

I smile back but I’m looking at his lips and thinking about how I would pry them apart with my own, only to spit poison down his throat just when he starts to think he’s safe.

My lips would still be on his even as his tongue stopped responding to mine. I would pull away and place my hand on his cheek as if pushing the color out of them, as if the poison is a snake sliding through his veins under my command. I would watch his eyes lock on mine as his body became limp in my arms. I would stare at the paleness and translucence of his skin and I would feel nothing; I would leave him empty open-eyed body in the césped, hierba among a field of daisies, romantically destroyed but destroyed nonetheless.

He’s looking at me and smiling and he doesn’t know I destroy everything I touch. I may look like flores and smell like summer but the taste in your mouth isn’t pennies but blood.

My eyes are Medusa and the people I see crumble into stone.

He’s looking at me and even though I’m smiling back I turn away from him and my feet are moving but I don’t feel like the Earth is holding me up the way it’s supposed to because I’m sinking through the cement to the Hades below.

As I fall I close my eyes to stop my sight and what I’m confronted with is the blackness of my own inner eyelids.

I taste the copper of blood and I feel the color leaving my cheeks and nothing is in front of me but he is behind me and I guess

it’s better to destroy yourself than someone else