In Fiction

Whore.
Why should I take your life only once,
When I could take it a million times
In fiction?

First,
I slash your throat. Simple. Easy.
You bleed, and fall, and convulse, and die,
In fiction.

Next,
I set you ablaze, as you did my heart.
You scream, and wail, and your flesh peels away as your life does,
In fiction.

Now,
I choke you, to show you how it felt when I was too hurt to speak.
My hands crush your windpipe, until the breaths stop coming and your chest lies still,
In fiction.

I wish
I could stab you, boil you, poison you, shoot you,
Cannibalise you, and rip you into tiny, wet pieces.
Miserable bitch.

I can.
And I will.
Forevermore.
In fiction.