this morning #611.

this morning, cupid’s arrow had become more of a jagged dagger & now he’d been stabbed repeatedly about the chest with it by the exact same woman that that lil’ bastard cherub had led him into the arms of just last summer. today was meant to be a day for flowers & intimate gestures & expressions of the heart but his beloved had other ideas. desperate ideas. in retrospect, he should’ve seen it coming but he was quite the hopeless romantic & had grown increasingly blind to the increasing threat. as a result, he found himself covered in his own blood, strewn out on the bathroom floor, a victim of his own intimate saint valentine’s day massacre.