My existence  is forlorn.
From my body, I am torn.
Withered and stripped,
My soul is worn.
Inside brews an endless storm.
Oh how I long to be no more.

It was not me
who you loved.

It was not me who you saw,
but rather the mirror you put before me.

It was not my voice you heard,
but rather your own echo.

The mirror you held between us was fragile.
Slowly it began to crack.
Each time I held you closer,
the mirror began to disintegrate.

The more the mirror began to break,
The more you saw me.
But you cannot stand to not stare
at your own reflection.

As the mirror shattered,
so did my heart.
You picked up the chards and threw them to my skin.
For you do not see the blood coursing through my veins,
but rather the lack of yourself.

For it was not me who you loved,
but rather your
mirror.

The day the light
was lost from your eyes
was not the day you died,
but rather
the day our love died.

I don’t know which hurts most.

In the witching hour all is quiet except for the beating sound of two hearts entwined with passion and agony beating more angry by the minute.

Blinded eyes try to pierce through the dark abyss to find sanity in a place of cold nothingness and desolation, as the tortured mind cloudy with regret slowly fades away..

nails claw at blinded eyes longing to see the clouds part and behold, his goddess is there basking in the pale yellowing aura of the moon, as he looks longingly upon her..

skin and curves of perfection soaking up the yellowing, becoming golden upon his slightest gaze.
Knees become burning furnaces of pain and torment as he falls to kneel before her, begging with soundless words of an open mouth for release.
Paralyzed, hungrily devouring as her sightless eyes fall upon her brooding brow trailing down to the blinding stars that become her eyes under the harvest moon.

The wind blows fierce surrounding her in a halo of color plucked dead limbs, trailing off into oblivion.
She gazed upon his visage, her fierceness burning his soul in eternal torment she smirks and glides toward effortlessly slowly,
tantalizingly slow,
causing him great anguish and letting her sadistic humor known to all..

he lashed out and traps her in his iron eyes transfixed  on lips so full and soft as crimson color them tricking down her body hungrily eating her perfect curves he kisses her
hard throwing themselves down a bottom less pit entangled in passion he forces her legs apart he slams into her as she drips wet in anticipation..
She moans breathlessly in extract, her ***** like velvet greedily devours his hardened **** of stone repeatedly ****** her innocence, tired bodies continuously fall exhausted.
She tried to flee, but his fires flamed inside hotly he takes her again.
His embrace hard, intense
his iron will dominating her.
Breaking her wild spirit, she gasps as he unleashes a relentless force inside her driving her to the edge of sanity and back again.

Her eyes close for the last time giving into his dominance
she embraced him.
Her wild flaming spirit shattered knowing that as he worships her it is she who is forever a slave of their passionate love,
melding bodies together,
as they fall endlessly in the abyss.

as I sit alone,
I am bound by It.

It is empty;
It is fleeting,
yet It is undying.

It has begun to consume me,
not by Its reality
but my own conception.

I am Its slave,
and It is my reaper.