She came to me a few days ago. Her eyes were brimmed with tears with a face of torn innocence. Though it was against my better judgement I held her. Not a word escaped me while her tears stained my shirt. This was how the night droned on; it was all I could do to comfort her. Anything else might've been a lie.

It's been two days since, and she was there again. Broken down and crippled with the same tears filling her beautiful eyes. I started thinking it was a ritual of ours; nothing but a link between each other of pure love. If I spoke it would have been a lie, though. I held her again, gathering another stain on another shirt.

"It'll be alright."

The next day she appeared again, sobbing in a frenzy as she threw herself upon me. My arms wrapped around her shattered form and held her close. Maybe my love would mend her. She cuddled in my lap as I held on.

"I promise.."

It's been a week since I've seen her now. I thought she got better, no longer needing me as comfort. All this did was discomfort me in return. I was addicted; I needed her now.

"I love you."

She never returned. My tears fell to the ground in a silent plea.