Cold Hearted

There was a day, a long time ago, that I was popular, loved and thrived on the attention that I got. There was a time that I was like everyone else. There was a time that I believed in love, and let myself fall full heartedly in love with a maiden I met. But like everyone else I fell into a self-repeating cliché. That's what's wrong with today's society: the amount of broken hearts walking around in corpses. Alcohol, drugs, and paid for lovers are solutions best served to cold veins, and darling my veins are like ice in December. My skin will feel like freshly fallen snow to your eyes but will feel like a blizzard to your skin. That's the danger of being too close to me, the frostbite on your fingers from trying to take my heart. My lips are the greatest liars you'll ever kiss, and my mouth is the most truthful son of a bitch to walk on the planet. It's a paradox, and I know it, and thus insanity is all that I dream about. You think that's hard on the body? Try having no one to ever tell you with their eyes that it'll be okay. Don't look at me; I do not trust you enough for that intimacy. Who do I trust? Hell, darling, my reflection itself is freezing in place and yet I still cannot walk away from the mirror and trust my footsteps. I want to leave my reflection behind, but it holds onto me with the truth: the truth that I am slowly dying inside because I have quit believing in the possibility of love. Honestly, who would believe in love after seeing the exact same thing kill all you've ever known. Love, my happiness died the second I got the message. Lord knows I've never been one for shooting a messenger, but my eyes sent two slugs into the chest of love that night. You want description? How about the simplicity of the never ending cycle I wake up and fall asleep to every day? Would that be sufficient for a girl of your self-righteous nature? I don't blame you for not wanting to love me, darling...
I can't even love myself.