The devil and me.

The in-between.

I hated him. I loved him. That was the way our story went. He gave me fire in my soul. Nobody made me feel the way he did, ever. He made me crazy. Sometimes I hated the person I had become, not recognizing myself.

He was a million miles away in his head. When things were good they were very good. But when things weren't good they were the worst. I loved him when most would up and leave. I rallied after every insult.

I kept going and grew very good at hiding the truth from the world. Even my own family never knew. I used every excuse going. When I finally tried to leave, I had no support. My own family thought I'd taken leave of my senses.

I couldn't take anymore. I wanted a life without the constant lies. The gambling, the money, the other women. I caught him red handed in mid act so to speak and still he denied it.

The taste was like ash on my tongue. All fires burned out. love vanished completely. Somethings cannot survive, raised to ash. So I left, but he would not let me go.

A new darker feeling begins that has no relation to love. I cry out with all of my being to be free of him. Hate blooms and blossom's. A deep hate, a true hate for all he has done, everything that has been broken inside of me.