Hateful Heart

She won’t even try to pick up the shattered shards.

Some people love with hatred in their hearts. When we associate passion with fire, we forget that all flames burn. Pull your fingertips away quickly, but they’re already singed. Yes, she smiled with all her teeth, like a child. But I think she’s lived a thousand lives. And she’s spent every one with her heart turning more twisted. Her eyes glisten like an innocent, but she loves to make you as damned as her. She’ll laugh at you for praying, turn your mother against you, and drop your favorite Christmas ball. She won’t even try to pick up the shattered shards. Because that would risk cutting her fingertips. And she is so fragile to you. So you gather the shards yourself and find the pale blue ornament is nothing but hollow and brittle on the inside.

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