Scales

We are at war.

It may not seem like it, but we are.

Behind our venomously sweet smiles, we stare daggers at each other.

At least, you do. That is why you stare at me so often, is it not?

Or do you just like what you see?

I can't say I'm completely unaffected, however. Not by your stare, of course, but rather by how quickly you disregarded everything we had been through.

That hurt more than anything else you might've done.

Because I trusted you. And you threw it all away.

But no matter. It's too late, what's done is done. All there is to do now is deal with the tension that coils in between us,

to believe the sickly saccharine lies that slither from ear to ear telling us it'll all be okay, that there is no bad blood.

Your scales slide on the cold floor and I shiver at the thought of them touching my skin.

But being condemned to a life on the ground has its advantages. I can stomp on you.

Squish you.

Extinguish what you started.

Because two people can play this game.

And while you think you've won, believe me, you haven't. Not by a long shot.

I have yet to unleash my own fangs.

It will take venom to fight venom.