Flash Fiction: The Two Types of Poison

About this story, I can now honestly say this with confidence:
Freaking realistic, indeed.

Vantablack is the blackest thing

Currently, there is a total of two girls. Both vying for my affection.

The first girl is full of poison.
Every word she lets through that pretty pink lips of hers is full of malice, designed to hurt people whether she means it or not. The little affection she shows are also laced with daggers, so you hurt yourself trying to uncover its hidden meaning no matter what. Her voice actually sounds like the twittering birds in the morning, except the birds are hurling really personal insults at you. Waste of her voice, I think, that it’s used to tear your heart into a million pieces while soothing your ears. She laughs, yeh, and they’re the clearest and the prettiest laugh you’ve ever heard, except they’re used for laughing at people, their taste, their dreams, all of their life’s meaning…
Yeah, even mine.
Don’t laugh.

The second girl is full…

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