Poison

It's a poison. This feeling, this evil. A fire coursing through my veins. Boiling my blood, it rises to my face. A crimson red appears just underneath my skin. Nobody shows that they see, and now I realize, they never did. I'm a shadow, a dark spot in the background of a photograph. The only reason I exist is to emphasize the people around me. But she noticed. Brought me out of the background. At least to me. Rarely speaking in person, especially when around other "friends". But I didn't care.. at first. Then something happened. Nothing changed. Nothing was supposed to, otherwise it would have. She's a poison, one that I willingly take daily. Killing me daily. It's murder, the way she makes me feel. The way she kills me. Makes me believe, then I begin to doubt, and with the wrong words she unknowingly ends me. Am I a poison to anyone, do I make them hurt with good intentions? Do I kill them the way she kills me? Or now that she's been gone, have I faded back into the background again?

So, did I mention I have a thing for sentence fragments?