Please forgive me if I cannot speak the words you so dearly wish to hear. The dead have come into my household and there is no safety in the sanctuary I call my mind.
Really, don't mind my ramblings, they mean nothing; I highly doubt you would find any worth within my smooth and melancholic voice.
I, myself, would find none. I have grown to be stone cold, death, and I enjoy the numbness that began with my fingertips.
I will not cry for you at your funeral. My love for you has turned to dust and the scent of human ash. So many human bodies burning, can you not see them, darling? They're watching you, with their eyes and jaws wide open. Waiting to eat you.
Forgive me if I frighten you, my words are said with light heart. Though, should a light heart be allowed to say such sinfully nerve wrecking words? I suppose not, but despite the fact that I live within light, my soul is devoured by their darkness.
Don't fret. I like them. They gave me the life everyone so desires. Immortality, I dare say, suits me fittingly, and there is nothing that could make me regret the decision I had taken. I deceived you gladly, forgotten love. My feelings for you were immediately dulled after the transformation, and staying with you any longer would have driven me to insanity. You can try my patience quite often, forgotten love.
As a man, I had forgotten my duties to myself. It easily disgusts me to think of the past, my past with you, and the repercussions that could have passed from fully committing myself to you. Imagine the horror that would have been my life! With you clinging to my arm in an improper fashion, I would have been so repulsed by your mere sight. Though to be fair, I am slightly repulsed from you even now.
The beginnings of my lust and amour with you have not so recently faded, and the blood thirst that greets me in its stead is lovely. So lovely, it makes my eyes rolls back in pleasure, a fact I find myself to be affectionate towards.
How I could have ever been affectionate to you, I have no idea. Your strawberry blonde ringlets that smelled of the sweetest roses now make me nauseous. You skin of soft cream makes my insides curl in contempt. You have become in odious existence, and I shall soon forget you. You are, my forgotten love, the object of my hatred.
(save me… for i still love you. i am in my most blind time, and the immortality they have cursed me with threatens to make me hate you… but i could never, my love. i could never.)