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Poisoned words slithered from his lips like vipers spitting their deadly venom.
Day after day, drop by drop, he injected the hemlock of lovelessness into my soul.
-When you say it, it won't matter, -she whispered with calculated coldness as he prepared my slow agony.
The suffocating routine, the empty conversations, the cold and dagger-like bed of lovelessness.
It was all part of his meticulous plan to murder what was once a rapturous love.
Now, consumed inside, he was little more than an empty shell.
When he finally summoned the courage to leave, she would have completed her perfect crime.
-I'm killing love," she boasted with sick glee.
And I, her tragic victim, lay dead in life.
