“Words from a fool”

As broken as I am, I still miss you. Memories of my life seem fleeting and vague, yet regaurding you, I can still taste your blood, sweat, and tears, the taste of your flesh, lingering on the tip of my tongue. My every fiber burns with a passion that I cannot quell for myself. A need, and desire for wholeness that I felt only in your presence. Behind the curtain of my own eyelids, I can see you as I once did. Fresh and alive, so unlike your present state. A myth? A pleasant fantasy? I see you sometimes as you are now, and it breaks my heart. How can one angel fall so far. Who are you? Surely this cannot be your true self, with the defilements of your own flesh, and the corruption of your own mind, and the sale of your own soul? For if it is, then I have been sorely mistaken about your nature… Or openly decieved. You are the corpse of your former glory. I once said that I would do anything for you. Anything at all. Why was my chosen task to watch you destroy yourself? Gladly I’d have taken your place and suffer your self-imposed crucifixion. I’d have died for your sins. But nay, you wished for me to watch you rot in the baking sun of your own self-loathing. Damn you for killing yourself. You were all I had.