I know she likes me. I know she finds me attractive. I’ve charmed my way into her mind, with a white smile. And I know she can’t see the komodo’s tongue, bacterial full, waiting to find her weak point; a fresh wound, the same one she wants me to heal.
It’s this cut that is still moist with blood where I’ll strike, and kill her slowly, infecting her with promises and attention, devouring her with wonderful acts of kindness, the one’s she’s been looking for so long. And she doesn’t realize who I am.
She thinks I’m her savior, she thinks I’m her hero. She thinks I’m that one guy who’s different from the rest; and she’s right. I am different. Yet I’m not the different she needs and desires.
Her hero, her savior… He’s out there somewhere. He’s a hero for a reason, and that’s me. He would be nothing if it weren’t for my kindred, for my kind, for myself. I am the snake to the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. If he is a hero, I am the dark shadow. If he is the light then I am a light in different color, in different shades.
The one thing she doesn’t realize however, is that this hero, well he’s an innocent. Because that’s how she pictures him, because that’s how she needs him. And if he’s an innocent, then I am the guilty, the one who’s done it all, who knows the paths, who can trick and will deceive her in ways she won’t begin to understand until my poison has been in and out of her.
And when I’m finished, she’ll plead for me to stay, she’ll beg for more venom, and by the time she realizes that it’s not her fault, that I have ruined her life just to get my own personal highs, I’ll be long gone, slithering my tongue on another fresh wound, like the calm before the storm.
And she’ll depict me of evil, though I’m really just a good lesson in life. Demons have more charm than angels.