Widow.

Like a thousand widows ululating for their loved ones that have departed; you lit a fire in my heart and then abandoned what you had started. Fainthearted, I attempt to heal my bruised and battered sense of pride, but this is often much too hard when there is no one in whom I can confide. I chanted your name, in the hopes that you would return. I offered you praise, as the vicious fire within continued to slowly burn. I refuse to acknowledge the newly granted freedom that has made me feel so light. I have recanted my belief that you and I were matched perfectly, so right. Love has taken its course on my life that you have left behind. I will reject love in the future, I would much rather douse myself in toxic turpentine. It made my bones feel brittle, and turned my tears to dust. Belittled my emotions, as I could not separate loneliness from trust. Now I must be strong once more, no longer forced to endure your cancerous couture. The disease you kindly referred to as love ravaged my insides as I began to feel so tired of. All that used to bring me joy, the happiest moments you've managed to destroy. Although I try to prevail, my efforts are to no avail. I will wear this blackened veil only as a testament that is apropos. I will restlessly remain as tired and timeless as a widow.

Apocalypse.

A million tears fell from these eyes, causing tsunamis and tidal waves to rise. Earthquakes shook the world, as tornadoes ravaged and whirled. Cities would self destruct and it would all be a result of my terrible luck. Life with you would be similar to death row; the passion would unfold until we would resort to blows. The fighting never fails to cease as I am left feeling like the deceased. I am now like the undead, as my thoughts refuse to turn off, constantly contemplating all the things I should have said. You pretended to be the bright, never ending light at the end of my tunnel. But instead of Heaven, you offered me nothing but Hell. I am finally strong enough to rebel, against the destruction that you would dole out like a fascist. Hitler and his reign had nothing on you and your regime. You were much worse on your weakest of days, your fury more extreme. I cannot fathom for a moment why you think you are a being so supreme. Meteors collide with everything in sight, as my heart races and pounds, seeking solace from the night. Misery threatens to tear my heart apart, as you trample on my love and leave your brand and mark. Malnourished by your scorn, watch as I walk through the streets in the clothes that your hands have torn. Naivety was my biggest flaw, I trusted in your word. You refused to make amendments to your cruel and wicked law, and then would act as if nothing had even occurred. In the end it is my inability to realize the sorrow that was caused by your deathlike kiss that makes me wonder if it's true that this is the apocalypse.

Violin.

I swam far out beyond shallow waters, sought shelter in homes with no walls. I sacrificed my soul for you to slaughter, yet I still haven't reaped the fruit from it all. I meandered the world and its continents, searching for a love that would provide, a home for all the raw emotion within me, that will remain and never subside. I assumed you were the one, that would bring colour to my life so black and white, you added radiance to my dull skies and varnished the stars that shone for me at night. My eyes refuse to weep, for the sadness is often too much to bear. My scars run deeper than before, how much longer must I suffer from this depressing affair. I showered you with romance, wiped your tears when they would fall. But in the end I am the only one that is at all enthralled. I listened to your stories of the pain that you have felt, offered you my shoulder for the cards that you have been dealt. Much to my chagrin, our love was your audience as you played me like your violin. I sang the notes you wanted, as you ridiculed me to your crowd. They were mesmerized and haunted by the music that I cried so loud. Many came from far and wide, to listen to the sorrowful song I sung. As they applauded, I silently died, drowned from the misery that filled my lungs.

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.