I know you're tortured within, and your eyes look hungry again but I'll never wander, my friend.

A cigarette lay perched against your lips, as you inhaled every cancer inducing compound freely into your lungs, exhaling your stress in the form of a cloud of smoke. Your chipped black finger nail polish representing the state of your soul: a deep, pensive, long-lasting sadness; a case of melancholia unable to be cured. The current state of your heart would be shattering to someone, even somebody without a soul. Watching your one sole purpose walk out of your life is the equivalent to a slap in the face by God: a sound and action so reverberating it knocks you off your very own two feet, deafening your senses due to the cacophony of every fiber of your entire being shattering into one billion pieces.

Maybe it's your own fault for relying so much on Deidara; for becoming so dependent on his company to the point where you couldn't even exist without him by your side, working as a crutch for you to lean on, catering to your every need. He said he was scared of commitment, but he had tattoos all over his skin- I guess he didn't see you as his work of art, or maybe he didn't think the pain was worth it.

Or maybe it's his fault, for allowing you to become attached, for teasing you with a fantasy that one day you will be cured, and one day you'd be eachothers' everything; a potential love hanging over your being, toying with your heart strings like a ventriloquist. You are the designer of your own catastrophe, you're responsible for trusting the arrogant blonde asshole in the first place.

One day you will miss the comfort of being sad. If your life continues to be spent drunk: absent of the burden of time and responsibility weighing on your shoulders, bowing you to the earth without respite, or high: delirious with lack of acknowledgment and reality, utterly delusional and completely ensalved to the substances you so depend on, there most likely won't ever even be a tomorrow. Yet he teased you, taking you to museums, parks, and monuments, to kiss you in every beautiful place, so you can never go back to them without tasting him like blood in your mouth. He destroyed you in the most beautiful way possible and once he left you, you finally understood why storms are named after people.

Deidara was a replacement for your escape, filling your mind and soul with hope of sobriety, replacing your pessimism with hopeful optimism.

Mayday, mayday I'm in trouble, send somebody on the double, scratching at the floor inside my mind- they all accept the lie.

A scream erupted from your lungs, a frequency so deep and catastrophic, a cacophony of emotion ejecting from your throat, a choke on your very own breath. A sound mirroring your soul's incapacity to withstand your abstinence from the great escape which you were so tangled in.

He saw you choke and it took his breath away, and he remembered: he promised he'd never wander. His eyes as blue as the ocean, watching in silence as you gasped for breath in between the tears to prevent your chest from caving in; eyes as deep as the ocean: the only difference being that you were willing to drown in his.

His hand found itself stop your shoulder, in attempt to stop you from winding knots at your scalp, watching you cave in on yourself, becoming smaller and smaller; your will to keep fighting diminishing with each agonizing second of confinement.

Eyes, with the potential to shine like stars, magnificent enough to change someone's world, met his own cerulean hues, yet this time, yours lacked luster proving that the girl who once cared for everything no longer cared at all. Yet still, as the blonde boy watched the crumbling ruins beneath your eyes reflecting the wandering soul within, he couldn't help but find a concept such as yourself to be mesmerizing and beautiful. Yet still, Your eyes- they looked hungry again.

"I was the one who loved you, even when you gave me thousands of reasons not to. You promised- you promised me you would lie in the dark with me and hold my hand until I wasn't scared anymore. I trusted you! I gave you the damn moon, yet you looked me in the eyes and asked me why I didn't bring you the sun: you promised me I would make it out alive. I never believed people when they said how much it hurts to have your heart broken, until I met you, who left me broken and crying on the floor, gasping for air- so don't you dare say you never killed anyone because you killed me," your hand, peaked and absent of healthy color rested atop Deidara's, and he felt a chill ravage his body at the sight of your complexion and the sensation of the coldness of your bones. The sound of your voice was hoarse, yet you remained composed, allowing regret and guilt to seep through your ex boyfriend's every pore and course through his veins the way desolation replaced your own blood.

His fingers retrieved the cigarette from between your lips, chapped and cracked, blood stained and thirsty. He allowed himself to sit next to you, cringing at the aura emanating from your being. Alcohol and cigarettes was now your signature scent, though still they didn't entirely mask your natural fragrance: sickly sweet and disorienting.

"I let you down and I started to run. I never meant to be your pain, oh God what have I done," his blonde hair hung over his face, his eyebrows furrowed with contempt.

"I never meant to hurt you, {Name}," his conscience getting the best of him. He swallowed his pride, his mind being bombarded by a barrage of guilt and regret: you were just learning to love, just starting to crawl, but he left you, his excuse being you were "too tedious to handle".

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, and instinctively your muscles moved on their own accord, resting your head in the crook of your betrayer's neck. The familiar scent of your floral shampoo reaching his nostrils as he untangled the knots in your thick, chestnut locks. Tears cascaded down both your cheeks' now, the saltiness stinging your lips,

"Can I have one more taste, just to make it through the day?" Deidara, handed you a stray bottle of liquor lying on the grass beneath your porch. Taking the bottle from his grasp, you threw it across your unmowed lawn, watching the glass shatter against the pavement of the road, the wasted liquor streaming in canals beneath the blades of grass.

Your hand gripped Deidara's chin, and you roughly pressed your lips against his, passing all your vulnerability, insignificance, anxiety, depression, and exhaustion into him, punishing him with half your burden. Your lips tasted like blood, mingled with alcohol and cigarettes; in no way an adequate taste yet still, he relished in the moment and familiarity of the feeling of his lips pressed against your own. You've found what you loved and you've vowed to let it kill you.

A relationship, based entirely on treachery and unfaithfulness and ones' selfishness has become the sole foundation and reliance which you two so desperately depend upon. You're tangled in this great escape while Deidara is reminded of the fact of how much you love him, and how much he'll hate himself for letting you go.

"I never meant to hurt nobody," your beloved rocked you back and forth, his lips pressed against the side of your forehead, his fingers tracing circles across your back.

"I only meant to do this to myself," you concluded, desperately searching for a reason behind the state of your relationship.

I know you're tortured within and your eyes look hungry again, but I'll never wander again: great escape.