There are, no...
...happy endings.

Or, at least...
none, that I can be a part, of.

...I stood on the sidelines
and watched, helplessly,
as everything,
I've ever wanted
was carved, in bleeding stone
and gifted, to someone else.  

Leatherbound,
and tied,
in silken ribbon,
as I collapsed,
and the tears, poured,
like ichor, from the deepest wounds.

Entire chapters,
of my devotion
slashed, in blood, and pen
and ripped right out,
of my soul, again.

I shut my ears,
to its narration
but nothing stops it, from playing...
the sonic boom,
committed to memory,
and shattering the walls,
in my arrested lungs.

I do often wish,
it would stop my breath

if I could just never feel
its loss,
again.

I have never...
stopped bleeding.