"You thought it was love?"  
she mocked,  
as the sword deepened through his chest.  

"It was never love."  

"I knew it," he said,  
"as it was more beautiful  
than love ever can be".

Her hand wrapped around him,  
like chains of hatred,  
as her sword embraced his heart.  

He smiled,  
as the pain swallowed him.  

"I die by your sword,  
but still in your arms."

I never knew love could be this beautiful—
So beautiful, you smile even when it hurts.
So beautiful, you hold on, knowing all that’s left are thorns.
So beautiful, you walk right through it,
Knowing exactly how it will burn.

Love, like a lotus, blooms where it's least expected—
rooted in dirt, yet rising, unshaken.
Its tender petals blush a gentle pink,
still shining,
though its roots are caged in mud.
He crossed the waters,
his feet wading through the mud,
scarred by stones hidden beneath.
All for a glimpse of his beloved—
standing with a lotus in her hand,
her beauty outshining its blushing petals.

"Hold back," they said—
But what should I hold in?
The pain that drowns me,
or the guilt that withers my soul?

"Wait," they said—
But until when?
Until my heart freezes to death,
or my breath fades into silence?

What should I do with these scars,
deepened by all the what-ifs of the past?
How can I give words to this grief,
when I choke on the same?"

And all the smiles plastered on my face,
one day will fail to defend my tears,
hiding beneath the facade,
that the world made me build.

The 'Me' I lost
wanders in despair,
in this maze of lies,
like a child lost in the mob.