tragedy is the makeup she wears,
tears of pain wash away her hopeless dreams,
the scars on her skin show the unforgotten past,
the black hole from which all happiness in her life is drained,
she holds her hand out,
endlessly,
hopelessly,
wishing for someone to grab it,
to take her away,
wishing for someone to smother her fire,
yet her candle still burns,

as i look in her eyes,
i see not the sorrow,
not the tortured and beaten soul that she sees,
i see life,
reality and compassion,
the raw truth,
that is unseen by most that look at her,
i see the most ravishing and divine creature to ever exist on this meager planet,
my love for her is not from lust or selfish needs,
its from the soul,
and that love will never stop burning,
one day i will take her hand,
and make her mine,
make up for all the other men that have failed her before me,
but until then,
i wait from a distance,
cold and alone,
with my hand out,
endlessly,
hopelessly,