Don’t glance at me longingly. Don’t plead to me, asking me to take you back. Instead, look at me and think about me, all out of regret. Look through my eyes and dream your future life that will never be. Revere in the happiness that you will never receive; enjoy the crooked path you have chosen to traverse. Go to bed every night and remember me. Envision me walking your body in nightmares that you weep in pain. Scream on midnights with my raging body and awake in cold sweat with nothing but my ghost.
Never blame me for your circumstance. Your fall is your own doing. You swallowed Adam’s seed, you drank your poison. You desired suicide through carnal acts, and so you die. Death to your untouched state, agony to your throbbing lips. You could have been responsible, but as always, you’re weak and idiotic.
Fulfill your fleshy destiny, satisfy your lusty hunger, and drown, drunk in your bastard’s wine. Savor your pseudo-happiness with your sorry excuse for a man. Oh, how hilarious it is that you’ll be married to a guy like that. And I thought you had taste. Turns out, the only tastes you know are those of the fluids of shaggy-haired, lousy scoundrels.
Sure, walk around with your overinflated womb. Enjoy this phase of expecting because that’s the only time you’ll be happy. You may show off and be proud. They may be there and be happy for you. They’re ecstatic! But how about you? Would you be eternally happy, knowing that everything was not what you wanted?
You do know what happens to people involved in pregnancies unbound by marriage, don’t you? They never lift off. They get stuck prematurely into parenthood. Can you and your man raise a family? He’s a lousy bum playing computer games all day. And you’re just an office clerk taking calls from stupid trolls. Heck, you won’t even get to work, once your kid is out. What’re you ‘gonna do now?
I’m guessing you’ll continue to suck: Suck at being a glorified daughter, suck at being a parent, suck in your career, suck in life . . . and continue sucking an underdeveloped pork stick.
Don’t come crying into my pants. You won’t satisfy; you will never pleasure me. I don’t love you and I will never fall in love with you again. I pass my hatred to you, that I will move forward and be strong; whilst you remain in the dumps—perfectly where you belong. You dug your own grave, now lay there and allow me to bury you forever.
- Cheating woman: dirty rotten scoundrel – quotes from the street – Rachel Steed [http://www.quotesfromthestreet.com/modern-romance/dirty-rotten-scoundrel]