You are dead to me, your corpse lays bloated in the distance as I walk away, leaving your sweet memory bleeding on the gray concrete walkway. Oh, but I was not the one who killed you, I just enjoyed the results of your murder.
For all those times you left me bleeding, severed arteries begging for mercy, shame causing me to curl fetal on the bed, I still loved all your sweet lies. The lies you whispered through the smoke curling from your lips, like Adam feeding Eve the apple.
Oh, but you thought you broke me. Your arrogance let you believe you broke me, when you left me bleeding, stripped me of all decency and humanity. The only thing you broke was my ability to love. To trust. Which is why I am not there to revive you, to save your soul, to lift your broken body from the pavement.
You turned me into your Barbie, your doll, perfection never met. But my body did not break despite the twists you attempted. You ask why I can touch others with my words, why I can paint pictures so beautiful and bright yet dark and full of hurt. In those sleepless hours between nightmare and daydreams your corpse burned in my mind, your sweet memory, left me hollow.
Your attempts to fill that hollow space with hatred, twisted darkness, left me standing. It left me reaching, bleeding out the pain of others, to fix what you broke. So, dear brother, I thank you for making me feel guilty, it made it easy to murder your sweet memory.
While the world burns, while its axis wobbles, I am left, unable to breath, from the heaving sobs that escape unexpectedly at the sudden freedom. Thank you for chasing me from my home, for forcing me to stand alone. Thank you for making me.
For you see, dear one, if it were not for your sweet, depraved memory it would not have been so easy to watch you die. I might have taken pity when I saw your broken body on the ground, bleeding, gasping for air, after the car struck you. I might have held your head in my lap, softly brushing your hair while the ambulance wailed through the dark, rain soaked avenues.
Even as I stood over you, watching your eyes beg for mercy, I could smell your lies. You wanted my touch, in your last moments, my tenderness. You forgot you made me. You forgot the hollow doll with the pretty green eyes can smile through any pain. I told you so, I told you I would not be there to revive, I told you I would be the one to say I told you so.
While your last breath escapes your false lips, I say good-bye, severing the heart and leave your corpse behind. The blinking lights echo off the rain soaked streets and I am the one left standing while your corpse fills the undertakers hearse.