stop to it

why are you still looking?
why do you still care?
What makes that blackness leave your body for mine?
In search of a kill,
in search of creating more emptiness, similar to yours.
I can't help the beauty, the love, the light that
objects to your blackness.
I can't help the caress of sincerity,
the breath of pure joy that overlaps and enfolds
leaving you: cold
smiling as I write, despite your ugly words of a child neglected,
"bitch, whore, miserable, lonely, pathetic, ALONE."
these are not me,
will never, have never, no reference known;
but you.