Heart Rapists

Heart rapists. 

Those are what I call men who love you without any warning. And by that alone it doesn’t sound so bad, I mean, isn’t that what love is anyway? To come into your life without asking? Well, it really wasn’t so bad, but that’s what heart rapists do. They make it feel good. 

The first thing heart rapists do is lure you, but they don’t do it on purpose. Heart rapists have eyes that captivate you like nothing else on earth. They are painted like old oil portraits. They are much like sirens. With those eyes, they sing to you, bring you in like a cold stray. I must have been the most coldest stray of all falling for the trick of one, maybe that’s why I long so much for its warmth and comfort now. 

Once you walk towards those eyes, there is absolutely no escape. They drown you for millennia. Heart rapists take pride in ownership, heart rapists make it their goal to bring you closer once under it’s sick, sweet spell. That must be what they feed on, vulnerability. Heart rapists look for weary hearts. Why ever would they rape a heart so full? Docile, docile hearts. How those heart rapists sneak on hearts like that.

A part of me wishes I had stopped walking the moment I laid the slightest peak on those eyes. I walked so deep, so far, that heart rapist was my prayer. In those times, he was not my heart rapist, he was only just my heart. My heart, which had been so empty, was filled with nothing but every detail that laid upon him. Why, why did those eyes have to fool me? Heart rapists, they do not truly love. Heart rapists know nothing of love other than how to fake it so much they make it seem perfect. Heart rapists toy with you just for the fun, to them, you are only a number. A heart to rape before the next.

Yet even under all my hatred, how I hold that heart rapist still. How I remember the days where my heart rapist-back then, only my heart, spoke with words that sang like church bells, that held beauty within every crevice and wrinkle, that really seemed to truly, truly love me. My heart, don’t you remember the tears you picked up from my face? How you eased my aches with just the smallest kiss? I’d spend every second of my life in pain if it just meant I could feel that once again, feeling him rape my heart continuously every morning and every night and every second spent together. 

Though, take my warning, heart rapists always end up as heart killers. There are so many things your heart pours out after a heart rapist stabs right through it and leaves. You never expect it, in fact, you are always completely sure it would never end up happening until it does. While your heart is being raped, raped to feel good enough you would not call it “rape”, heart rapists plan. Heart rapists always know how it will kill in the end. I believe they only rape to kill. To murder. To pierce not only your heart but soul and next complete life. Heart rapists trap your mind. They spread their fingers across every vein and live in it. They stay there, raping whatever left you have in your heart until the day you die.

Heart rapists rape the heart so well. So well enough you want more of it. You do anything for it, and if not for it, to pretend and imagine it. To all heart rapists, know you’d never be alone, for you carry raped hearts and drag them like dogs on a leash.