An Imminent Fantasy

But it's only that drunken-immortality fairytale embedded into your unfortunate soul and pressed seemingly against your lips, struck across with that fancy red gloss of her favorite coat of which gathered every ounce of deceit she could have possibly mustered up out of the back of her sickening throat. "Forever" was merely another one of her words that made its way into the void sometime before reaching your such gullible ears. Or perhaps every syllable that slipped from the tip of that tongue is simply another piece of the actual void, relishing its way into a deliberate consumption of your senses to ease every misfortune with bitter condolences. This was your first mistake; She craved adequacy of every "I'm sorry" she spoke that slithered away and wrapped itself around your mind and soul so tightly that you utterly forgot what the word "pain" meant simply because she forgot that "truth" was even a damn word.