He confided his deepest secret to you; be always wary of his secret.
― Dejan Stojanovic,
“Confide in me.”
He smiles that malicious smile as the words flutter across the room. Like a butterfly, they start as a creeping caterpillar crawling from his mouth. They feed on the desperation seeping traitorously from my sweat-coated skin. They augment until they cannot stretch their skin any further and their body forms a protective chrysalis. Right before my eyes, I witness the words spring forth from their cocoon and I cannot help but stare in wonder at their possibility. So beautiful and welcoming, I yearn to just embrace them and do as he says.
But I know that I cannot. His butterfly-words are poisonous beneath their vibrant coloured wings. They hold no comfort nor shelter. They are deceitful and manipulative. To confide would be to allow the butterfly to penetrate me. It would allow him and his butterfly-words into my soul. Then they would release their deadly poison and as it seeps into every corner of my desperate self I would stand silently and watch. Just wait as I die, collapsing slowly into myself.
Confiding in him would be the equivalent to committing suicide. With that power he would destroy me before either of us could blink. And so I raise my steel armour, aim my flamethrower and burn his pretty butterfly. My eyes are cold as I stare him down, my mouth sealed and my heart completely shielded. I don’t let my guard down for any words he tries to propel at me after that. He tries and tries until he has drained himself after many attempts at trying to tear me down. And slowly, as the life of him is transformed into weapons that reflect harmlessly against my armour, I watch him collapse instead.