Beaten down by the wrath of love,
With all its lies and betrayals.
Many months wasted away,
Filled with desponding agony that left her feeling lost and foolish,
Thinking she finally learned love’s greatest deceit.
 
His love for her more vast than any ocean,
As he blindly dove into the unknown wonders of all that she encompassed.
 
However, he was simply not enough.
He entertained her, but could not please her.
For, if he was the wind, she was a tornado.
Powerfully capable of capturing everything in sight,
Until all that remained was destroyed, broken,
A mere figment of what they once were.
Precisely what he was to become.
 
Immersed in her loss,
A limitless pain as sharp and inconsolable
As the insufferable regret that plagues him of what might have been.
All caused by her desperate desire for protection.
She was taught that love cannot exist.
 
Even while solitude consumed him like an immeasurably almighty wave,
Remnants of her surrounded him incessantly, suffocating him,
As he could not bear to set her free.
 
He would not accept what could not be.
She was not dead, not even to him.
Despite his attempts, he failed to repudiate her,
Choosing rather to kill himself,
Than live in the misery of her memories and
What might have been.