The whites of the lights did blend with the dark, dank colors of the night,
And my fingers did shake and my heart did break as I trembled, symptoms of rage, not fright.
Explain to me what monstrosity was caused by the tears she did bleed
Instead of weep, and drown in sorrows, instead, an unseen path did lead
To the blade, which she enclosed in her fingers, as she traced an arrow on her skin,
And made physical the ‘X’ on her heart, taking out her pain blatantly, not under covers worn







bare and thin.
Make me understand, somehow, how her scars began a war that seemed to last a thousand lifetimes,
How every cry for help she did sound was only to be found as a call to arms, lasting till I was stripped of my rhymes.
And I, though my intent not at all malevolent, seeked wisdom by repeating tales, which were spread like morning dew,
And the whispers prominent in the eerie air promenaded around every silly square as if they would not rest, had no curfew.
In an attempt to salvage a relationship long gone, a friendship I had ruined, I again told the tale to a trusted acquaintance,
And asked advice of her, because my judgment had gone awry and I needed someone to understand, have patience,
And this person only confirmed my beliefs of what I should do, I should assist by telling someone with the authority to change
A habit set in stone that was yet to form, and so told I did, although the victm of her own eyed me as though I was an asylum inmate, deranged.
And I heard my loved ones attacked by her beloved, all the while we forgave each other, agreeing to stay silent.
I never had then known that syllables could be so evil, so incredibly cruel, reduce people to quivers; words, be you violent?
And as days turned into weeks, which in turn turned into months as we watched the seasons pass us by,
Again we were friends, loquacious, going to each other to laugh and to weep, in moments of euphoria or when we must cry,
Yet still I was forbidden to meet this person away from my career, for that is how legal matters get on,
And the girl with the X over her heart and myself, once queens, were transformed into meager, measly pawns.
And as seasons repeated themselves and calendars were removed and replaced, an issue returned to our presence,
And we raged on about which of us was correct, which one did the proper action; this awful war’s wholly essence.
While a friendship, dear to me, has been shredded, ripped, and torn apart,
Though you cannot see it, there is a subtle X now on my heart.