Her eyes were open wounds and as she sat there she was forced to consume,
to consume the images of her bleeding heart slowly yet furiously being ripped apart.

She couldn’t look away nor escape,
for the hands participating in this torture
were unique in their ability
to be the very ones to restore her.

He was both her ruination and her salvation, a fate that she has taken without hesitation.

She is at the point of no return and she’d willingly follow him straight to hell
even if it meant that she’d burn.

Clutching to your memory
has turned my heart into a ghost town
Vacant and empty
What a shame for a place
that used to be abundant and plenty

For the land is barren
The fruits of my labor
Withered and gone
For the streams have dried up
And my affection withdrawn

It is not your fault and actually anything but
You’re blameless for everything
Other than the crime of stealing the best pieces of my heart, leaving me with only
the most defective parts

But then comes a day  
A day I stop searching for it all
A day I stop comparing

I then make my bed
Comfortable
Wrapped in the blankets of absence, loss and…

By the miraculous work of God

I then awoke to a bed stripped bare
And he was firmly standing there
The one man daring enough to make a home in such a lifeless place has now bloomed fields of flowers in his wake.