Break me. Make me feel like I’m made of glass and shatter me to a million little pieces. Then walk all over me, your wrecked masterpiece, your work of art. Walk over me with your bare feet, that way I’ll cut into your flesh like you cut into my soul, cut into your skin and embed scars within you the same way you embedded scars within my heart.
Break me. Wreck me. Shatter me. Please. Break me. Then I’d have my chance, I’d finally get to hurt you like you hurt me. I can’t do it unless I’m broken. Only then can I cut you up.
Then one night, you’d go to bed, not a worry in the world…
And I’d watch you sleep.
I’d absorb that sweet sight of you, drink up the image of your final night of content sleep and carve it into my memory…then whisper heartbreaking words into the depths of your subconscious mind. I want to tell you I’m not real. I never really existed. I am a figment of your imagination. When you wake up you’ll think I was just a part of some beautiful dream you had. I’m not real. I don’t exist. You dreamed me up. And you will forever have to live with the heartbreak of being in love with someone who never existed.
And you will suffer forever, thinking that you felt pain over something that never truly happened. Because I lied to you in your sleep.
“Peter, Peter, in despair, are you all lonely deep down there?”