Your virtues. Are a lie. Manufactured.
By my. Disbelief. That you could be. Anything. But perfect. Gasping for breathe.
My screams go unheard. As I choke. Vomiting up all the lies. You shoved down my throat. With manipulations. And false tears. In one moment of clarity.

I opened up my eyes. And now I can see. For the first time. The mask behind which you hid you eyes is shattered. And I look into them for the first time unblinded.
Everything comes crashing down, As your true self is revealed. And I shudder to think. That I. Once lost. Myself in that gaze.

I open my hand. In which I thought contained your heart. And before my own disbelieving eyes.
The illusion is revealed. And all that remains is ashes and my own blood. It drips down my fingers and I taste it. Bitter and cold.
Curdled by the poison that taints everything from your tongue. I cut my wrists, And bleed. So that each drop may be cleansed. Purified. From you. You don't love me. You never did. You only loved. The affection you'd get. You don't love me.