She, like a flower,
bright that my tongue may
not form words at the very sight of her. As she begins to speak,
her lips rolling in sound that I await. She
blasts a furnace of bitter rejection and blindness into my
face. And I scream because the pain of a broken heart
and a trampled soul is too much for a mortal to bear.
The She was actually very kind about the whole thing.heat of her fury burns past the thresholds of flesh
and as I lie broken, the shards of my heart tearing
through my hands, without feeling, screaming, she laughs
quietly and holds another.