Yule rang in with bells of devastation.
I gazed in iced over puddles and silhouettes cast in the fog for days on end
in a maddened search for my face or my eyes,
but even those were lost in the wreckage.
I choked back tears for hours on end before shattering in the shower.
Medicated with sex and flirtation.
Threw "I love you" in other directions without a spark of adoration.
Self-destructed one letter at a time.
And now the flame is rekindled by the very same angel.
The one with the torch in his hand that illuminates and burns simultaneously.
I fear for my very soul because I just can't fortell
Whether he will damn me or redeem me.
So I relapse.
Dive head first into the same dizzying downfall
because I would rather be his "baby" for a day
than never hear those words again.
Copyright © Miranda Bell