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All alone I had to find some meaning
In the center of the pain I felt inside




So you stand there.

Tall and straight, with shoulders back and your head held high. Trenchcoat hanging just so and your shoes polished so that they shine and shine and never reflect. A statue of black cloth and blacker leather; features carved from concrete and etched in granite. You always were her pillared friend.

So you stand there.

Not alone but ever so lonely. Encompassed by menageries and deep-and-meaningful's; company overflowing. A sea of faces, but never the one. The right one. The perfect one. Your chosen one. The one who's gone now, buried at your feet. She's never coming back and there's loneliness in that thought. In this circumstance. You always were her solitary knight.

So you stand there.

Armour cracked and smeared, no shining gleam, no noble steed. For a brave knight you're awfully tarnished. But only on the inside. Only in your memories. Only when you think of all the could-have's and should-have's and realise you NEVER DID. You never did save her. Not when it counted. Not when it mattered. Only in your dreams and that's not real. You always were her stunted hero.

So you stand there.

Hands open and empty by your side; what you fisted in their grip has now slipped away. Slipped and twisted and meandered out of reach; you let her drown into oblivion and all you could do, as she gasped and swallowed and retched, was whisper that you were sorry. Empty, empty words that now echo bitterly. You're sorry, you're sorry, you're sorry... and the worst part? She forgave you. She always would, she always did. You always were her broken king.

So you stand there.

A monarchy in ruins, the matriarch no more. Redemption has overthrown the government and now democracy will reign. No more blessed dictation, no more orders from the queen. Her crown's scrap metal, her garden already melting. Who will bring you flowers now that the petals have all turned to ash? She was the one with the fire marshall's number. And you? You always were her invisible stalker.

So you stand there.

Dead when she was alive, even deader now she's gone. A fractured soul, a tortured friend. Her Dark Avenger. The witness to the crime. No avenue for retribution, only inner-reflection. And the form left to pay is the one you never see. The mirror is faulty, or perhaps the fault's yours. No perhaps. Simple truth. And there's just not enough glue to repair a looking glass that's unbroken. You always were her taciturn shadow.

So you stand there.

Features chipped from ice, emotions rented and torn. She'd want you to smile but there's no voice left to suggest so. No whispers, no sighs. No ranting logic, no whimsical perception. She's gone... unfurled... free at long, long last and the silence is deafening. You always were her eunuched butterfly.

So you stand there.

Apologetic and remorseful. And for what? You're sorry that you're still here; sorry that she's not? You'd say join the club but its membership is full. Creator, founder, lifelong member--quite the little party you've thrown yourself. She'd be so proud; she was the artist of get-together canvasses. But not you. You always were her ruminative confidante.

So you stand there.

A face in the crowd, nothing more only less. She's gone from your right, from your left, back and front. She's gone and it's wrong and can never be right. She was everything. Everything you thought you wanted. Everything you knew you needed. Everything. And you? You always were her mythical lover.

So you stand there.

A fantasy of ecstasy. A fairy-tale of romance. Myths and legends and hobgoblins, oh my. She was going to be the happily in your ever after. But the story books lied. Now there's just after. Just gone. Just dead. Just everything faded. You always loved her.

So stand.



The End