I craved your soul but you wouldn't let me have a taste.
I was looking for a place to burn but you wouldn't let me warm myself.
I was after someone who'd appreciate my dying heart but you're too beautiful to care.
I would cry in the comforting disconsolate of your callous heart but I am too prideful in my worth.
I could have done anything for you.
It's never good for the heart to suffer this way but I believe in the price of penance I have to pay to find Nirvana.
I could of, would have, loved you; to allow the patience bloodlet that only demons can inspire.
But.
I wanted to love you more than I could ever love myself; so imagine my hurt when you decided I was the worthless, cut-flower ornament to your perfection.

To leave me bleeding.
To let me die.
To **** me with the care you never gave.