one shot

The ink on this paper is my blood now. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. You told me I was too much. Too clingy, too fragile, a burden. You said our love was a beautiful poison, and you chose to stop drinking. But some poisons, my darling, are in the bloodstream forever.

You thought ending it would set you free. You were wrong. You only taught me the final lesson: how to make my love permanent.

I didn’t just take pills. I made a pact. The old mirror in my apartment, the one you always said gave you chills? It’s a gateway. My final breath wasn’t a sigh; it was a name—yours—whispered into its cold glass.

Now, my love becomes absolute. You’ll see me in every reflection. In your morning coffee, in your car window, in the pupils of everyone you meet. My face, my eyes, watching. You’ll feel my cold touch on your shoulder when you’re with someone new. You’ll hear my whisper in the dark, repeating your sweet, cruel promises.

You wanted to be free of me. But I am the air you breathe now. I am the silence after your scream. Our toxic love doesn’t end with my death. It becomes the house you live in. The skin you cannot shed.

This isn’t goodbye. It’s a vow. I am yours, forever. And now, you are finally, irrevocably, mine.

Wait for me in the mirror. I’ll be there.