Your sharp face pierced the age of beauty

and left thorns and barbs throughout my heart,

your tight, little body had fought its way into my life

and you were all I could see or feel or breathe.

 

It should not have been,

but it was.

Our guards came down early,

and we both got stung for a few shots early,

but we both loved the pain in every way.

 

There was a something about you,

some tangible, thick quality of having lived,

having been through pain and hatred,

and love,

somehow you opened your heart again.

 

An armistice smile played on your lips,

both of us afraid to give any more pieces of heart,

but longing to feel wanted, attractive and true.

 

The tentative smile became real

and was a landmark of a tiny, gorgeous mouth

always revealing your heart,

and it was never more true than at the end.

 

The smile danced and faded to be replaced,

for the first time,

by a frown that began to smother my heart.

 

I held you as you bled

and inside that perfect body

a broken heart cried.

It was not the normla sadness of love lost,

but the sadness of someone too young

taken away from life too early,

it never breathed a full life and we were worse off for that.

 

It should not have been and was

and now may never be again,

leaving unasked questions never to be asked

and a love never to be explored.

 

We almost lost ourselves in the goodbye,

bodies hurt by a heart beating out poison

in a time where breathing became everything.

 

I sat in bed, curled up into myself

staring at a white panel wall,

you sat up and held me from behind,

iny arms and hands wrapping around me

with a strength none would imagine,

and one meeting of eyes told everything.

 

I didn't want you to go then,

I don't want you to be gone.