Hollow Words

i'm sorry, she said, if i decimate the truth.
of all the words that aching minds can imagine in the late hours of the night, her's is stuck on two that have grown hollow with overuse. i'm sorry, she said. and the nuances of each instance tell of hope and casual iforgiveyou's, to be broken down under low-lighting, at a time less directly passionate. (and she's breaking down his heart, tearing it to pieces, searching for the lie she's always known is there.) and she's exhausted. and he wears her out. and she loves it, and she hates him. and together they're a wonderful shade of black, so dark that even the blood cant stain; and the smiles cant show. i'm sorry, she said, but you saved me. he's plastic. and she's a dreamer. he's empty. and she's dreaming. he's lovely with his charming vunerability, stretched over his skin like a mask; a mask that becomes a web, and entangles all the innocent girls; and he's a safe bet. forever, he says, and she's just waiting for forever to come and go, so she can move on with her life. and she's outside herself, and watches every moment like one of those movies that always makes you cry. there's even a soundtrack and she cant seem to get past track number one. i'm sorry, she said, but this is my theme song. and she drowns herself in the music and makes up excuses for him. (she's always been one for prolonging the pain.) yawns and clenched teeth, shaken to conciousness to keep these hands going; keep along this waiting path because he's not waiting, and someone had better. she thinks this drama is not too fair, and even less fun; because mr. forever isnt waiting. he's dropped off the ends of the earth instead. i'm sorry, she said, its my fault you're dying. he promises everything she doesnt want to hear, or wants to hear too badly, or cant quite decide. and she's always been his lifeline, and she's always bared this guilt, since the day she fell in love; or perhaps that fateful day when she cast away her demons, and with it tossed this love. it makes her wonder sometimes, if they might be one in the same. and it makes her wonder sometimes, if she lives that day in every moment. he's the poison pulsing through her, and the nourishment that keeps her alive. he's the knife in her heart, and the blood in her veins. he's not fair. i'm sorry, she said...
i'm sorry, she said, but i love you more every time you kill me.