I didn’t watch the world begin, but I might watch it end.
The scent of wafting willows on the breeze was always my favorite.
I used to lie on the grassy hilltop, watching cars drive passed as I dug my toes into the cold, squishy dirt.
The night-clouded sky would burst with glorious splendor as Helios’ gift crest the horizon.
Some days I’d simply drift away, until pangs of hunger rumbling in my belly would nag about things I’d forgotten.
But I never gave up a chance to watch Selene draw her blanket over the dusk, leaving a glittery trail of star-crumbs on her way home.
My mistake was a simple one, like most are.
But no one ever cares about who you were when you become the world’s worst criminal.
So they say.
I liked to smile. I like smiles.
The look on another’s face when my supple skin brushes a little too close to theirs.
So close I’m euphoric in a sea of their light, sweet perfumes and colognes.
They shy away, afraid, but then they see my smile.
People are lonely until you invite them into you.
I don’t think I was ever really “evil.”
Evil-ish, maybe, but in the same way–I think–that most people are “good-ish.”
Whether that’s true at all doesn’t change much: I found the jar.
The way hot, cheesy pepperonis stick between your teeth is how I know love.
I’ve met dazzling people–some for whom the word “rapture,” is now reserved.
And there have been some whom I’d just as soon forget, and probably have.
Other things have happened on occasion: sunrises with friends on the lawn, the ocean pier at sunset, so many day dreams I’ll never remember.
But there has always been, and ever shall be, sticky sweet pizza.
When it was all said and done, there was only one thing left.
I’m guessing by now you know what it is.
You’ve heard the story, I’m sure.
There’s just one small thing: I lied.
The jar is empty.
Really wanna know what’s left?
Me. The world’s worst criminal.