My sadness pours through me,

rending, my twice-born soul,

Misery, my addiction, liqueur to my broken self.

My wings once beat, with gaiety matching none,

Far, far above my ocean of despair,

Those wings now lie, charred, by my side,

A looking glass, to a lifetime long past.

That single being, could rip through me,

seemed mollifying, irrational, how wrong was I?

For my heart, is now a thousand, concussed fragments,

Each yearning to worship, a wisp of her.

I bow to her, creator of bliss,

Preserver of life's ilusions, destroyer of my Self

Her face kissed, by those, chilling lips of the Reaper,

In death, she's only ever looked more beautiful.