Perhaps

You would perhaps think that I am someone who you can learn from.  That I know things others do not.  That I am the bearer of some knowledge in an ancient urn that only I can open.

I am not.

Perhaps I will recite a parable to teach you right from wrong.  You may sit in rapt attention with your face turned up towards the sky.  The sun might dapple your skin in a myriad of light that hurts me to look at.

Or I won’t.

You would perhaps dream that I love you.  That my body entwines with yours when no one is looking.  That I will stare into your eyes and say I am yours.  That my sighs will contain only your name.

They will not.

Perhaps I will hurt you.  Wound you with my sadistic words.  Eloquently break you with my prose as you lament the pain.  Smile slyly when your tears fall on my pillow as you lay on my bed.

I will.

So perhaps you should run.  Find a place to hide that does not fall within my sights.  Sleep with a gun in your hand and one eye open.  Research ways to kill without being caught.  Decide how I will die.

You should.

Perhaps this will be futile.  Your efforts to escape my clutches will be ineffective.  Your heart will betray you as it floats into my greedy hands.  You will not notice until much too late that I am the one who possesses you.

Perhaps.

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