Mistake

I loved him.

I craved him.

I allowed him to do things to me that you can only imagine.

My body was his.

My soul was his.

My mind was his.

He was the puppet master and I was the puppet.

Love.

Love was fleeting to him.

I was one of the others.

Other women.

Other loves.

Other.

He couldn’t be bothered.

Bothered with getting to know me.

To see me.

To truly know what makes me tick.

Maybe if he had, he would have known.

That I was losing it.

Losing my mind with all these games.

Lost in my head with sex.

Lost without him.

I was lost.

I didn’t like losing.

That’s why I made sure that he knew

that I wasn’t a mistake.

That this wasn’t a mistake.

That this love was forever.

My 22 caliber pistol showed him

that a love like ours was eternal.

It could never be a mistake.

 

This post was inspired by the Daily Post. The word of the day was mistake.

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