confession

                   How quickly, by far too quietly, are we desensitized to rights and wrongs while our own is away, and someone’s sitting close enough to question. Especially when it is as cold and dark as our thoughts, and we can sense their heat. When our skirts are short, our legs shaven, and they smell remarkably dangerous; take heed, as we are taken. Their words shall always drip false. Our actions always fall grey into their arms.

         And truth?

         What of truth?
                   Truth is skewed by just a glance. How we’d be anything for just one brush of their hand… How we’d do anything for a brush of their lips. God alone knows what we’d do for any more than that. This proves the fear – such as that borne in hell.

                   Such fear is this that it prevents refusal. The fear increases with the time we have been with our own. We start believing we are undesirable . . . believing that only our own wants what we give. Common sense tells us that this simply isn’t true. But, as we are human, we need more than words: we need proof.
Maybe it can be found in the satisfaction of a wanted phone number. Depends on which of us. However, when it is only found in a deep kiss, disgustingly welcomed, nothing holds worth.
Slowly, hardly noticeable at first while we refuse to feel, we inevitably shatter with disturbing speed.
                   During the silence of the matter between our own and ourselves, The Soul will be haunted and devoured by guilt. As the demons indulge, our touch grows lighter every breath; The hands, no longer ours as before, grow colder every thought. Our eyes grow dim. Fleeting smiles fade into sorrow, and laughter perishes to weeping.
Eventually the guilt will expend its repast. Eventually it will no longer matter whether or not we choose to continue, we shall forsake emotion for something more – a meaningless, failed attempt at life that continues every day, as we live, no…as we continue dying alone and isolated from any decent, living loving spirit. Shunned on our own by any who have morals, companions, and unity with another soul. Kept away from those who hold happiness ready to be shared, but unable to be taken easily, or at all, with our conscience.

                   We are, if you choose to elucidate us from all others, the intrinsic vampires.
We live off of the dreams, the love, we had in the past, lost in the present and which will never return again.
                   We are not immortal, but we do subsist within our hell too long, causing us to feel such. In an existence such as ours, being accepted into the suspension is like immortality.
We all wish we could succumb to emotion as you, but that is impossible to those who have already vacated such as we:

Love.