'Take your time, I'm broken...'

'Why?'

'Because of me?' he asks, and she feels there's some smugness to his question, some certainty that he already knows the answer.

If she thought he did, she'd lie...

'You?' she echoes, gazing over his shoulder at some distant point. She looks down, to her right, a small smile, slightly sad, arching her mouth.

 ...but she won't have to.

'No.' and she raises her eyes to see into his own, as her smile brightens.

He says nothing, but then, he's always said little. She doesn't expect an answer, as she steps closer and hugs him - 'just this once', she thinks. He doesn't care for these little things - she knows - but it's goodbye and she's allowed to indulge one whim, after all, and he's not pushing her away. She holds tight, for all the times she didn't, and imprints the moment - him - in her memory.

Although she knows it could only be this way, it still hurts.

She steps back, and looks up to see him watching her, eyes dark.

'He knows, too.'

Drawing close again, she rests her cheek to his, feeling his pulse heighten under her fingertips, as one hand lightly brushes his neck, while the other buries itself in his hair. She breathes him in.

How she's wanted to do this...

He puts his arms around her, leaning into her touch. 'Thank you', she whispers on his skin, because he's doing it for her sake. His hold tightens and she thinks that, maybe, he needs it, too.

'I'll miss you', she sighs as she pulls back, lingering an instant to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Turning to leave, she notices him licking his lips, eyes following her movements, expression unreadable.

'He never smiles', she thinks inanely.

'I know.'

'Walk away.'

If you ask me to, I'll beg for you, stripped of pride; divested of myself, I will don the garment of desire and wear the mask - of sin and be the fantasy - the mother, the sister, the friend, the lover, the ideal and the temptation. I will watch you fall into me, over and over, every time holding you tighter, closer, to save you from myself, from yourself, only to have you come to me, again and again. Endlessly, for you are my punishment for old transgressions, for past lives wasted, for hearts torn and dreams forsaken; your wounds on me are my atonement and you are thorough, my precious.

I am the dark within you, in your eyes in swirls of black, on your lips in kisses of venom; I'm your thoughts of fire, the rush of blood through your veins, the pounding of your heart in hurried beat. Don't send me away, lover, for you will fall apart. Pray that I don't leave.

She's always watched him, from afar. Silly girl. Sighing and starry-eyed, hoping against hope, dreading, that he might see her too, just this once. But she crumbles a little more each time his eyes don't fall on her, and she forsakes another of her dreams - they wouldn't stand the light of day, anyway. When she feels extremely cold and discouraged, she can clearly see the tiny fractures in all of her ideals and can even feel them disintegrating, decaying. She laughs derisively, bitter and harsh, at her own delusion and thinks 'never again'; and she cries, because she's learned not to trust herself. Release is what she waits for now, illusions discarded; all the words broken weighing her down, flaws chaining her to the nightmares of her failure.

Now, he sees her - he knows - and she hates him. She wishes she could scar his flawless skin, hurt his beautiful gaze and mar his bright - distantly pitying, condescendingly compassionate - smile, unworldly and cruel. Her ties keep straining and she suddenly feels merciless. He should taste the bitterness of rejection and the sting of alienation, divested of his guise of beauty. She wants him lost, spoiled and craving, his desires denied.

As she follows the mesmerizing dance of waves below her, she waits. He's watching her intently and she revels minutely in her small victory. 'It's almost over', she whispers to wild winds and laden skies; she smiles sadly, but so achingly free and light, she trembles.

Once more she looks back, drinking in the sight of him for the last, painfully infinite, time and she almost gives in to her old demons; she would reach out to touch that which beckons, arresting and pristine, but she can't forget, intensely aware of how close she is to falling back into him - her weakness. She steps back, disentangling herself from the strings of fate that bind them, and closes her eyes, the image of him carved bright into her mind. She lets go.

'I'm memory now, and always part of you', her thoughts echo, and it feels like revenge.

'I'll be your torment'.

Look for me on the battlefield, when all has ended. You slay my friends, I take away those by your side - our path to each other, worn in blood. To worthy enemy, the honor of my fight. The dice have been cast long before we were bound: to our land, to our condition, to our fate. No other choice.

Rise pyres to those who have fallen - the price of our peace, paint the heavens in mists of smoke - cover the eyes of the gods, and hear the wails of the lost; our offerings made, silence reigns again. When the skies clear and the cries wane, come. The way has always been open, marked by the passing of our former selves, drawing ever close. Wait for me.

Sorrow, worry and regret hold me back still, my spirit crushed under the heavy steps of memory, wings dragging behind - laden, ominous, crumbling. I bear the burden of my existence, intricately woven into my soul - patterns blending, stitches fading. Patched.

Am I visible underneath all that I've been? You shine through, beyond everything you've become. I see and you know. Be patient. Don't strain against your ties, they'll be no more. Soon.

I hold your freedom in slivers of steel; in cups of honeyed poison, you promise me relief. I carry your death with my destiny as your hands keep my life. It will all be over. I reach out - sharp, glinting - in loving caress - lips pleading. Be merciful and swift - trembling, torn - taste sweet. Rest.

Infinity awaits.

They call him 'corrupted', associate evil to his name and give darkness his appearance - 'he's fallen', they say. Betrayal and deceit are the children of his faith, marks of his descent. He thinks he doesn't miss his gilded cage - eyes glinting black - for he gained freedom in his fall. He wanders now - the sole constant of his present - his own condition urging, driven by the obscure hunger of the empty, beacon to the lost ones. He cringes in disdain at their proximity - the feeble ones among whom he has to dwell, but keeps on his unattended path, arrestingly aloof - undeterred. He cares nothing for their petty wars and wounds of flesh; they bleed and cry - they die - only to rise again under different guises - unmistakably flawed, painfully fragile - prone to love, crude. Tainted mirror to their distorted existence, misplaced among desires convoluted and smiles twisted in malice, he asks for oblivion. He is denied forgiveness.

'What will be' they say...'it is written'. Don't turn around, don't look the other way, don't run...you've already done it countless times. I'm always there. Don't fret, cry if you must, tears soothe the helpless aching. They might even say 'it wasn't meant to be', but no one truly knows; keep fighting. It's endless and it is wearying - be patient, luminous one. If it hurts, it's not over; hold on to your hope - I'll hold you - my sweet, the end is your reward.

Yes, I know you search every time, tirelessly. I'm ever close. I know the price for completion is high, I've seen you fall, and you feel so lost, so often, you can't see yourself anymore. You don't see me. Wait, please, have faith, beautiful one. You've loved - longed - for so long...Can you remember what was before? Don't hide your pain, I know. I will ask the Gods that you be granted your wish - they owe me mine - in all your lives to come.

Nothing ever truly ends. I'll watch over you.

Break my heart and I'll give it to you, free of hidden strings or shadows of regret. It was yours from the beginning, since before it became flesh. You're surprised. Did I steal your victory, cruel one? Defeat never tasted so sweet - ambrosia - on my parched lips, and my mind grows hazy with the heady fragrance of power. It's addictive, my tormentor, and now I understand. I see it swirling in the depths of your eyes - ancient and amber, and it drives you mad with want; it mars your wondrous gaze with storms of black that feed on your desire. It carves you hollow.

I ask nothing of you, don't frown, petulant one. Smoothen your brow, let me share your burden. Lean on me, I'll hold you up. They can't see beyond appearance, my lord, merely skimming over gilded masks. I'll keep you safe. Stand tall, countenance unyielding, and receive your due. I submit.

Keep your light in check, it shines through - mercy is unbecoming. I'll help you overcome your affliction - affection, and I'll strengthen your resolve. Let me. If your path requires sacrifice, I will be your toll. Don't look back - forget - and you'll see ahead. Surely you must know, it is all for you.

I still under your gaze - hollow, a stranger looking back. We meet again - always, between an end and a beginning, in our pursuit of perfection. In the silence of time, as empires rise and fall, we've reached beyond our 'ever after'. It's been too long.

I waver - shatter - with burden of the instants - pieces - of familiar eyes I remember - you. Can't breathe - no air, can't think - too many memories, can't look away - you know. The garments of my mortality were never shed - you see, and you despise - envy - my weakness. Don't reach out - trembling, I can't - won't - cry. My face shifts and settles - breaks - into a smile - empty - unforgiving and bright and you give - me - up. Always the strong one, my nemesis. You failed, my precious.

Victory - defeat - tastes of ashes, it burns my eyes to tears. You crumble and I can't look away - mesmerized - distantly pleased, eerily aching. I'm flawed, beloved.

You haunt me with patience of the predator - cruel and feral, tasting - savoring - the mist of fear swirling in my eyes, clinging to my breath. My promise of eternity - my soul - you ask. I've been waiting - always. I'm weary, my love.

Creature of power and tempest, my torment is soft and gentle - touch cold, my skin engraved - laced - with bright truth - it burns - that I can never see for the veil of my mortality. Don't look away. Watch me taint that which is mine - yours - with all you were forbidden to know, as I unearth everything poisonous and dark - shadows - that my decaying humanity bears and thrives upon, and paint my mask of war: vision - twisted, spirit - conflicted and rage - crimson. I hate you.

You look yet fail to see - pity - distant mirror to my broken reflection. Creature of beauty and light, your gaze is sharp - don't falter - it shreds my dreams - all dust - and I laugh - cry - bitter and harsh and old. You win.

The shiver slithering down my spine tells me that it's time, you're close. I want you to come. Be my first and only wish come true. Trace my steps, the path worn by my words, spread among the winds sent to summon you. Just be here.

I feel cold with every tiny shudder and the whispers grow fierce inside my head - threads of thought without end or beginning, meaning lost. My saving grace - my angel, please - hide your wings from prying eyes, sharp with envy and jagged with the cruelty of broken spirits. Keep your light for all which need redeemed; though all deserving, few are worthy. Don't weep.

There is always hope amidst all the darkness of despair; souls - tainted with guilt, heavy with memories and broken with sadness - strain against their chains, crave it every instant in their eternal torment; they know it's as real as all that binds them to their fate, they believe in its redemption and see it fluttering brightly with glimpses of salvation on its wings. They hang on to the promise of light, breathe it in and shroud their hearts in its golden-silvery, burning strands. It hurts with purity, but it's nothing to their already charred lungs; hope alone is soothing salve to all their wounds and they've waited and wanted for so long. The dark isn't all consuming anymore, as an end to eternity seems possible. Time means nothing.

On the path to my defeat, I brush the ashes of tomorrow, step onto the broken trails and dream my life of bright moments marred and too soon lost.

I mourn the things that can't be changed, all that has been and gone forever; I try to grasp the sands of time - my own mortality urging - in feeble hands that shake with the tremor of tears suppressed and fears to come...

In the darkness behind my eyelids, universes unfold and disperse in minute eternities and die in bursts of light - golden and dusty and warm; destinies are woven and unwound in the expanse of a hummingbird's flutter of wings, and they crash into the nothingness of oblivion. And all things forgotten never were.

Waiting for tomorrow, I gaze into yesterday with longing for all that was - a wisp of memory that eludes me - and wish for remembrance. The painful strokes of time - a thundering echo in my mind - carry me further away from all that I want and can't ever seem to touch - the past - misty and burdened and out of my reach, for all the battle wounds and the blood shed mean nothing to this muted, unforgiving present. It was all for now.

In light of all that's lost and everything gained, was it worth the sacrifice of the ones that were?

Holding close the smallest shreds of all my yesterdays, gathering them around my tattered hopes, I look upon the barely visible, yet unworn path to all of my tomorrows and step into the future. Time is unyielding.

As the rhythm crawls inside my head, weaving smoky tendrils around thoughts forgotten and words unspoken, my body writhes restlessly underneath my skin, my breath catches inside my mouth, my heart grows in my chest, hammering helplessly against my ribcage, spiraling with the sound, trying to fill me... only to shatter on the highest note of the violin, sweet and sharp and crystalline.

Now, slivers of it are scattered everywhere, embedded in my flesh; in my eyes, on my lips, between my shoulder blades, in the palms of my hands, at the small of my back, in the soles of my feet.I only have to find every tiny shard, gather them to my breast, glue them all together with hopes and dreams, to mend what's come undone, and pretend it isn't slightly misshapen, somewhat hollow and more easily broken, pretend it's still my heart, just as before...