Our words were once kind, but they have since been laced with venom.

Our heart was once warm, but it now only burns from the ice it pumps through our veins.

Our pen once wrote praises, but now only blood spills upon the page.

Our smile was once gentle, but we have filed our teeth to fangs with our failures.

Our soul once knew love.

But it was only pretend.

Our resolve was once mighty, but it has been broken by shattering defeats, poisoned by false loyalties.

We wish to speak, but even our words have abandoned us, just as lovers past.

We wish to scream, but we will only be answered by the echoes of our fortress.

We wish to write, but cannot bear the pain to lift the pen.

We wish to have her.

But she has ran to the arms of another.

She once gave us serenity, but now only provides torment.

She once illuminated the skies above, but now we only cower in darkness.

She once held our heart, but now our hands bleed as we hold the jagged pieces together.

We were once hopeful to find solace in companionship.

*What a fool I am.

You made us bleed.*

Bleed from a place deep within us. Where it does not appear as a light red, or even crimson.

But a dark scarlet.

Darker than the void you so carelessly cast us in.

You left us with nothing but the company of the Solitude, who recites our failures to us with each nightfall like songs of victory.

Our only food was the shattered promises that you left behind with your departure, as they shred our tongue which spoke only words of affection and adoration to you.

Our only drink was the burning passion we once used to keep you warm during your cold isolation, which has now festered and rotted, tasting only of boiling venom now.

Yet despite this diet of agony and woe, we cannot help but love you.

But you do not reciprocate these feelings which we hold, you merely mocked them by filling our ears with fantasies and false assurances.

So we have grown tentative.

We have forged a fortress from the flesh of the fetid Solitude, to safeguard that which you have left in fine fragments.

From its bones we have constructed monolithic walls and barriers.

From its soul we have crafted chains and blades, to stave off those who would seek to destroy what is left of it.

We have assured ourselves that none shall have safe passage within, unless we so willed.

And yet when you return after months of silence with nothing more than your beautiful sapphire eyes, and your lips curled into a gentle smile, you have shaken the very foundation of our fortress.

Even the sight of your very name causes the whispers of the Solitude to echo in its halls.

We do not know what has brought you back to our tormented path, but know that it will not be as welcoming as it once was.

There will not be any words of gentleness or amour as before, but rather a single, bitter phrase.

*En garde.

The Destroyer of Pleasures.

What shall we say when it delivers us to the Perfection?

When we are handed our book, filled with our sins and favors, what testament will we have to give for our actions?

When the final grain of soil is cast upon our grave, what will we have left behind besides the broken hearts of those dearest to us?

Will we be able to stand proud before the Perfection, or will we be brought to our knees under the weight of our transgressions?

When the hour of reckoning is at hand, will our face be lit with tranquility, or shall it be twisted in grief?

We are unsure.

When the scales are brought forth to measure our deeds, will it be our wickedness or our righteousness that will crack the earth with its weight?

When the Perfection gazes into our soul, will it be illuminated with his smile, or destroyed by his wrath?

Who will be there to read the Chapter for us when we cannot read it for ourselves?

We are unsure.

Will we have earned the intervention from the one whose example we strive to follow?

When our tongue recites every lie we have spoken before the Perfection, what will we say to justify them?

When our eyes give testament to the tragedies they have witnessed as a result of our own actions, what veil can we call upon to cover our shame?

When our heart sheds tears for the suffering and grief we have caused it for the sake of companionship, who will come to our side to show the fruit of our efforts?

We are unsure.

With each reminder of the Destroyer of Pleasures, we have asked ourselves these questions endlessly. Yet the answer is always the same.

Only one response comes to mind:

*I'm sorry. I did my best.

Solitude.

Such an ancient adversary. Our history runs as long as time itself.

Once again it has decided to come forth, having been staved off by our once glorious companion.

Or perhaps not so glorious. As we peer into the past, the taint and tarnish become clear.

The heavenly songs filled with promises were harmonized with clashing shrieks and piercing screams. The sweet basin of affection was poisoned by twisted manipulation and deception.

Our courtship with the Fallen One has left us broken, yet functioning. We thought we had triumphed over despair, but the Solitude has begun to tear its way into us.

It whispers with blades that sink deeper than our flesh and bone. It declares that it is an inevitability, that no matter our attempts it will not be defeated.

We repel its whispers, but only on occasion. Its words slither through our deaf ears, and with each victory, they become harder to silence.

Yet there is one who can quell even the mightiest of his attacks. Her gaze alone causes it to fall silent. Her smile loosens his grip on the body's heart.

Yet the Solitude is cunning. It knows of the doubts that linger in the mind. It points out the flaws in us. It taunts us with our incompatibility.

We cannot deny what it declares. We are aware of our shortcomings.

But we cannot ignore the nerves that twist beneath the skin as we look upon her.

We cannot dismiss the passion in our heart when we hear her laughter.

We cannot overlook the radiance of her very presence, ridding the darkness and sorrow in our mind.

Yet the wounds from the Fallen One have yet to heal. We are hesitant to torment ourselves with another lost companion.

But we are strong in our resolve. We will combat the Solitude.

We shall stand firm against its whispers.

We will not break under the weight of our adversary.

We will endure this war, for we have the Perfection who watches us, ever vigilant, and infallible.

Our eyes lock, and there is nothing but the beautiful suspension of time.

We feel the beating of our own heart slow to a standstill.

Try as we might to resist, we are captivated by her enchantment. We cannot look away, for our eyes do not desire to gaze upon anything else.

It is with stone in our heart that we admire her elegant beauty, for she is barbed with pain and regret.

Yet the emptiness of our home sinks deeper than our flesh and bone, and shakes us to our very core. The silence mocks us, no matter our efforts to avert our attention elsewhere.

The Fallen One has left a void, one where haunting specters emerge, painting twisted memories of her upon our walls. They echo words that were once tender and loving with shrill ridicule.

Yet we cannot help but admire this one.

We know the dangers of courtship.

Yet she commands our thoughts.

We understand that a truce with the Solitude is necessary.

Yet she comforts us through the cold silence.

We have tried and tried to rid these feelings, but they are relentless, and our resolve is weakening.

We fear.

At first, we feared of the harm the courtship would bring us.

Though with each passing day, we fear harming the object of our infatuation.

For the sake of preserving the beautiful smile upon her face, we shall leave our heart distant.

For the sake of hearing her laughter, we will remain joyful through the pain.

For the sake of being greeted by her each day, we shall seek her company.

For the sake of remaining unharmed, we shall keep silent.

This secret shall remain with us, until our passion has burned our tongue, never to be spoken of to her.

*Perfection save us.

Silence.

This is all we hear now.

Gone are the sweet words of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

Gone is her radiant light that illuminated our world.

We have been thrown back into the darkness that haunted us for so long.

Yet there are no screams to torment us. No hisses to harm us.

Even the Solitude is silent.

Perhaps it has taken pity upon us.

Or perhaps it has learned a new method of torment.

Yet there are echoes that boom through the darkness, flashing memories in the sparks of light that accompany them.

The absence of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has turned the passion in our veins to poison. We feel our very soul dying, fracturing from its touch.

We beg for the light of the Perfection, but darkness is all that answers us.

There is none to come to our aid.

Our only solace is the words once written by the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

Yet even these words cut deeper into our wounds, twisting into our heart as haunting reminders of what we cannot have.

The mind cannot help but endlessly repeat the memories we created, its gaze unblinking while they continue to cast lacerations upon it.

We have tried in vain to pull the mind away from the memories, to save it from the anguish.

But it has become paralyzed, caught in a horrendous cycle of elation and devastation.

We are left with no other option but to numb the mind beneath a sea of liquid repression.

Yet even then, she visits us in our dreams, giving us the company we desired so desperately before, only to awaken to the twilight that perpetually surrounds us.

Silence.

This is all we hear now.

We have been forsaken, left to brood over our deeds while we lie upon the cold ground that is littered with barbs and thorns created by our own foolishness.

The Solitude looms over us, watching us shiver in pain as the blood from our wounds stains the ground.

We feel its harsh glare bore into our very soul, while the specters of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity eternally whisper her words in our ear.

Our strength is dwindling, and our desire to carry on is fading, for all we see upon this path is agony and torment.

Our path is wrought with cracks and blades from lovers past.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity
The Traveler
The Fallen One
The Distant One
The Nameless

They have each riddled our path and our hearts with scars that shall never fade.

And the Solitude vows that it will continue this cycle for eternity.

That it will force us to crawl upon this wretched path, relentlessly reliving this horror if we dare continue.

Yet despite the twilight and anguish, despite our forsaken soul, there is one who has stretched his hand in aid.

The Companion.

Unaffected by our plagues and spines on our path, he kneels beside us and speaks a single word that sends the Solitude into rage.

*Rise.

A beautiful light has illuminated the veil before our eyes.

A light beckoned forth by the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

We once stumbled in darkness, chasing flickers and sparks.

We believed them to be breathtaking, filling us with awe before they vanished as we blinked.

But she has shown us what radiance truly is.

She has shown us what it truly means to find comfort in company.

Now we see.

We once thought that our love could only be heard from the peaks of mountains as they echo.

We once thought that a smile could only be seen in the reflection of jewels.

But we were mistaken.

Now we see.

She has shown us that love can be whispered, for only her to hear.

She has shown us that it can linger upon the wings of fleeting moments, waiting to be seen.

Now we see.

Her light has made many things clear.

It has uplifted us from the darkness that has haunted us for centuries.

More importantly, it has shown us her fear.

In her smile, we see something more beautiful than the stars. More beautiful than a legion of angels.

Yet there is also fear.

Fear that her brilliant light will reveal to us one who would outshine her, that it would cause us to soar far above her, and abandon her.

But we ask, is there anything that outshines the sun, even as it peeks over the morning horizon?

Is there anything that would outshine the divine rays of the Perfection?

Were we to align all of the stars in all of the galaxies, even then they would be but a flicker in comparison to her.

We desire her more than the air of a drowning man.

More than sight for the blind, or hearing for the deaf.

But she does not see this.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has given us a great trust.

For it is one thing to fall in love with someone.

And it is another to feel another soul fall in love with you, and you become compelled to be responsible.

We shall be here to catch her, and together we shall not fall, but fly.

For now we see.

But it is not enough.

She must be able to see.

So we shall give her our own light. It will grow brighter and brighter, until her own darkness has vanished.

*Only then, will she see.