Loneliness.

You ask what it feels like to be alone? It feels like one's sins that have yet to be atoned. Like, the promise of death just slightly postponed. Loneliness is like a cyclone, that rips through a city and tears through its bones. It is the scent of another's cologne, on the collar of the one that you brought into your home. But of being alone all I am qualified to say, is that it can turn your hair instantaneously grey. I have known it to strip some bare, to leave them in the cold with nothing to wear. It has darkened my days, and stolen the light that used to come as such a comfort on cold, lonely nights. I am now filled with fright, and often contrite as I rarely know when I will eat my next bite. I have lost all will to fight, as I smile insipidly, such a miserable sight. Loneliness is the one whose name I will scream for murdering my young and wearing my heart on its sleeve. It has taken my breath right out of my lungs, whipped me in the scorching heat of the desert sun. I am no longer one, as I falter and fail; like the missing voice of a melodious nightingale. I will wither and writhe from loneliness and it's scythe; it was like the grim reaper as it reaped my soul, left me with nothing, and refused to console . . me as the tears poured from my eyes. Left in a daze and questioning why. How at once does all this pain exist inside my slender frame? But alas, I've come to know that loneliness is the one that I shall accost for all of the joys that I have lost.

Rome.

I am embarking on a new endeavour, as the pages turn. This chapter of my life will be filled with new lessons that I must learn. You and I, we grew apart, as we took one another for granted. The seed of love that grew within has died, the promises recanted. I rebuilt this city on my own, placing one brick at a time. Yet throughout it all I refused to acknowledge that love is only worth a dime. A penny on a good day, it has become so plebeian. I feel calm and serene, like the waters of the Aegean. For a brief moment, our lives were entwined; you held my hand and showed me my noble path. Now, as a specimen that has become so refined, all I can feel is your miserable wrath. The pages keep turning, as the passion burns out. Snuffed, like a candle that was once devout. In my conviction, I see that I was wrong, to assume that you were my saviour, that our meeting was like a song. You guided me like the stars, all I needed was to look in your direction to find my way home. But now I am alone, and I must make this journey on my own. As Rome was not built in a day, we must go our own separate ways. 'Tis always better to have loved and lost, even if love has the power to exhaust. I am stronger than ever before, no longer meagre in my supply. Just know that you will have my shoulder until the day that I die.

Broken Doll.

When you're not around, I feel like my limbs have been amputated. I am a puzzle that refuses to come undone. But whenever you're near, I can't help but feel frustrated. You were my greatest contender, not willing to be outdone. I thought that I'd been vindicated, when I made the effort to show that I have changed. Instead you pad my walls, and leave me in restraints as if I am vehemently deranged. My sun will rise again, as your flowers wilt from guilt. My castles will touch the sky, as you procrastinate on the ones in your head that you have yet to build. Ambition emanates from my pores, I exude it like the cherry tree that blossoms in the spring. You still refuse to believe that I have nothing up my sleeve. Like a prisoner on death row finally granted his reprieve. My last meal consisted of food that tasted like our love. I ate in silence as I repeated the Lord's prayer to God above. I berated Him for my weakness, for the life I left unfinished. I lamented for the light in my eyes that had entirely diminished. In my next incarnation, I will not make the same mistakes. I will always remember that the love you give should be equal to that you take. No longer selfish, in a world primarily inspired by hate. I will contemplate before I use my pen to write my fate. It will be wondrous, full of joy and cheer; another life lived to the fullest with my loved ones near. You will reattach yourself to me, with glee, no longer the separated limb of a crooked amputee.

Defeat.

Love is not an object that is set in stone, nor is it a guideline that others need to clone. Yet you make it seem as if there are rules for the way that one should act. You spew vile, putrid insults and expect me not to react. Have I really seemed so foolish in my broken, battered past? To give you the impression that my stupidity is so vast? I am not a victim, nor will I play your games. You confuse me and control me, watch our love as it catches flame. I thought I had fulfilled my duty, as I supported you through the worst. Yet still your ego won't allow for you to put another first. I made an effort, truly did; yet you denied me of the thrill. Of taking credit for hard work, your effect was like a pill. The kind that made me sleep, undisturbed for days. We butted heads for far too long, refusing to change our stubborn ways. One question comes to mind: was our relationship doomed from the start? I must confess that I played my part, in taking you for granted and presuming that our love would stay enchanted. At the end of the storm, I managed to find. Emotions I had lost, that were one of a kind. The ones I hid from you, and concealed from myself. The ones I repressed, and placed high upon a shelf. It is now clear to me, that I lost myself along the way. I took the road less travelled, assumed that I'd be saved. But this accursed road was full of twists and turns; it gave the impression that it was safe but it had not even been paved. I played by your rules, never played the role of a liar or a cheat. Our battlefield unfolds to reveal that I concede to my defeat.