Photo by Maud CORREA on Unsplash
I could never have thought to love you.
Even now, with poison dripping from my lips.
I could never have shown you mercy.
They say in the end we see life differently.
Perhaps regret for where tenderness might have fit more wholly.
Yet all I see is how destruction was the only way.
Your demise – our demise – was necessary.
No matter how many times I replay it.
No matter how many times I live it.
This was the only way.
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