I stare at the being before me.
The image reflected at me.
Where once there was firm and smooth flesh laid over supple muscle,
There is nothing but bone thinly veiled by dry, cracked skin.
Cheeks once plump and rosy with youth,
Are now sunken and hallow.
Tear trails run from eyes darkened with dark circles,
And greasy hair hangs in clumps around a tired face.
Shoulders slumped in weariness,
Eyes begging for what is not offered,
Knees scraped from following,
Head bowed in defeat.
And the fault is yours.
I entrusted you with this being I treasure so,
I put aside caution,
Trusted when I never had before
And in return you let it whither away.
You infected it with this virus,
This disease, illness
This cancer, sickness
This killing seed you planted when all I wanted was you to tend.
I will take it back and lock it up.
Tending and nursing it on my own.
And if again I should ever give it away,
The gardener will nurse it into the beautiful blossom it should be,
And this horror you call Love
Will never decimate it again.
I take back my heart
And hope that you will someday feel its pain.