If I see you again, I swear it's just a reflex when my second phalanx goes crashing through your orbital ridge. The third, the fourth, the fifth: succession is meant to be swift, until there's nothing left of the eyes you saw me with.
It was never revenge for a glacial silence: you are emptiness. It was never revenge, it was self defence: you are emptiness.
If I see you again, I swear it's just a reflex… leaving bones in splinters all over your face. It's no mistake when the zygomatic arch breaks. Cracks in the sagittal suture: my love, it's your future.