Every morning I would tell her just how beautiful she was.
And in return, she would hit me.
Her fist would land right square in my center, pushing me to my limit.
But I didn’t break.
I loved her.

I stood by her for years.
Trying my hardest to remind her of how precious she was.
Her long dark hair, and slender hands were envied by many.
But she never cared.
In her eyes, she could never compare.
So she hit me.

It wasn’t long until she wilted.
Her sun kissed flesh turned a parchment white.
Her long dark hair, turned grey from heartache.
Her slender hands frail, from being malnourished.
She was at her breaking point.
So she hit me.

I shattered into a million pieces.
Sharp mirror edges scattered across the floor.
She cried as she picked me up.
Pulling me close to her familiar skin.
She had broken me, to the point to where I was useless.
And I broke her.
I cut deep into her veins, where she finally broke free and bled into the night.