The Slow Death

It's not you, it's me.
Okay, wait... it is you.

You, with your deep brown eyes and your manipulative tongue. You crept in and waited until I was at my most vulnerable.
You latched onto me with your sharp teeth and your words like a poison, have eaten away at my organs.

My bones are brittle, my brain is slowly dying.

There is nothing left.
Nothing but a hollow shell of the one I was.

You've left me with nothing and you are nothing more than a murderer. A disease. A monster.

I hope you are happy with what you've done.
You slowly killed off the only one who ever truly loved you.

Have a nice day.