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I gave up on myself,
before you could give up on me.
Because when my heart is no longer mine,
it can no longer be yours either.
If only you could mend a broken spirit as you would a broken arm,
because mental scars are the most dangerous kind.
Hidden from and unbeknownst to the world.
Tormenting her,
killing her.

So tonight, she falls to her knees again.
Begging God for the strength to carry on,
Pleading His mercy to not let her have to.
Forgotten
- she falls apart.

She curls up on her side of an empty bed.
His memory burns her eyes as his touch had stained her skin.
She cries,
"Lord, let me hold him, one last time."

She buries her head in her pillow as she would have buried her head in his chest.
Too tired to keep fighting,
her lips barely muster the strength to whisper that she loves him,
as she says goodbye.
In a desperate attempt to alleviate her pain,
she administers herself a lethal potion of sedative-hypnotics and alcohol,
drifting her into a deep sleep
where she is no longer bound
by suffering
and freed
from the possession
of her demons.

He found her
tightly clutching her pillow.
God, if only he had told her how delicately beautiful she was.

In that moment,
he was just as broken as she
and tears tenderly flowed down his cheeks.

He walked over to her
and kissed her on her forehead.
"Lord, let me just tell her that I love her."

He sat next to her on the empty side of the bed
and held her hands in his
- one last time
His sweet music,
his delicate voice.
I look into his dark, angelic eyes
and as we dance
he holds me close,
so close,
that it makes me believe that he won't leave me in the morning
as every time before.
Today, I woke up in his arms.
The sunlight shining on his once cherub face
revealed a truth that I had long denied.
My hands fumbled to where his temples used to be
and all I felt was pertruding evil.
I no longer saw him as the man that I wanted him to be,
I saw him for who he truly was.
I tried to get up and leave,
run away from the unveiled illusion,
but his tail was tightly wrapped around my body
and deeply rooted in me.
I knew that if I stayed,
he would make me
the Queen of Hades.
So through the pain,
the heartache
and the tears,
I ripped his very existence from my being,
I ripped the cords that controlled my heart,
I ripped the memories from my mind,
and I destroyed the love that I once had for him.
I set him on fire,
and as he screamed in agony
and cried out in pain:
not even his sweet tears could quench the flames that were consuming him.
I risked love and ended up playing in the Devil's Backyard.
I took the spark from my eyes and placed them in his,
I placed my heart in his hands believing that he would keep the pieces together,
I gave him love expecting it to drive out the hate from his soul.

I built my home in him.
The sparkling windows
and fresh coat of paint
deviated attention from the broken wooden floors
and the ceiling caving in.
I was never blind,
but now I truly see.
God's fallen Angel made me believe
that I was condemned,
but now I am free.
To dance on my own,
once again.
I stare at the empty place in my bed,
I don't need you there
for you stained my sheets
and left my heart there to bleed.
I choke on my tears.
I cry not for you,
but for a heart that has so much love to give
and no one to give it to.
A heart that yearns to be loved,
only to bleed heartache and pain.
And a need to be touched by a love so pure
that it would love the pieces back together
with nothing less
than seams of gold.
For this heart
realizes
that a woman,
so capable of feeling,
so intense,
deserves nothing less than gold.

— The End —