Tragically Infernal

Constantly consuming is your warmth, and you have conquered and divided my defenses. Now as you move in for the kill, you bring down the fire and throw down my dominos of indiscretion leading to the vulnerable child crying at the end of the hallway.

Inescapable, molded solid, and biological imprisonment. "A permanent solution to a temporary problem" the warning sign says, but the thought of you out of my sight reeks of screaming infidelity. This will end in bloodshed, and that won't be lipstick on your fucking lips.