I wouldn’t

I could fucking kill him.

I could gently wrap my hands around his neck and watch the life drain from his face.

I could take his pillow from beneath my head and turn to his sleeping frame beside me late morning and press it to his face, smothering him until his body goes limp.

I could slip something in his drink the next time we go out.

Better yet,

I could fucking kill myself.

I could take a bath at his house, and take one of his over used razors to my wrists.

I could tie a noose tightly around my neck attached to his bedroom ceiling while he’s busying sleeping until noon.

I could make the rest of his thoughts revolve around me,

I won’t.

But what a powerful thought to know I could.

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