Too many times I've thought of that heart as warm, pumping blood so necessary. But waking up to is such a foreign sensation, everything seems to run cold now. I've felt the blood, freezing and rushing down the arm into a basin of snow. As if watching flowers blossom, ruby strawberries ripening in summer but the heat flees.

One chpice is all that's left; you took the other when you fled. I steal a look in the snow, oh how it reminds me of how I washed away sins that did not belong to me.

A story with a beggining where "I love you" turned to wasteful words that cut deeper when the skin is touched gently first.

The man was not a man but a boy flickering in self-loathing such as a candle whose flame seldom burns just enough. Seeing that light all too well, I was dazed; my flesh burned, crisping like leaves on dying trees but in every way, I felt.

A wound never really mends, at least not fully. So I turn to look at the monster you'e become. Nights spent in false hope, wrapped in arms you'll forget tomorrow; lies in the dark do not keep when the sun rises and when he rises, the truths bombard me with a weight too much, even for Atlas. With that weight on me and the rising sun, I flow through the days like the river I always see in the morning.

These motions are easy if you've done it enough, connecting dots like Da Vinci's code; Caravaggio colors are vivid but my life isn't art, only a mirage that dissapates when one comes near. Making  excuses for you is easy, faulting the universe like it owes me something.

You've ruptured my mind in ways you don't know and I can only wonder how. How did you become this beast, a monster that rules over me? How did you make me se my world for what it was?

Warm bodies passing, an everyday way becomes circuitous in fashion but in feeling. It starts with a look, a daggered stare which pulses in the pupil; something I thought was so soft hardens and that  color from your iris fills with ice. A crease on one side, but not the other, directs the nose to those sweet lips which spit acrid truths, solidifying when we're alone.

Too many times I've caressed that chin, memorizing the stubble that constellates the skin; veins run faster, bolting down the neck so dearly held by my hands; bulging with pain. Scattered through nights, too many to name, it crosses the flesh I so hoped to love. Even Galileo can't count these scars.

I can't help my wandering hands as they stroll through hills, getting lost at the end of the path where the hands meet; the tips of the fingers roam up the chest which imprisons that heart.

What happened to that heart? Did hell seize the warmth so treasured in there? Warmt, still a stranger, gathers outside in a bed where it lays with hate; a web spun with lies blankets them while lust watches and romance no longer houses in you because you indulge in dangerous acts, conversing with devils. You monster!

I craved the sugar that sweetens life, desire peace; a world where love lives without betrayal. Wait now, it's time for me to go. Don't worry, I'll be back. I always come back to you, beast.

I brush with bristles, splash my face with that  river, and look at the monster I used to love once more. I turn from the bathroom mirror and flow through the days like nthe river in my sink.