The Wreckage We Wore

Dark thoughts linger, heavy, cruel, Of my blue-eyed monster, sharp as a jewel. The light in your gaze once softened my heart, But now it cuts deep, tearing us apart. Kindness, you bore has withered to ash, A star that implodes in a furious crash. I stand in the shadow of what we became, A battlefield burning, consumed by shame. The echoes of laughter, a ghost in my mind, Resound like the crash of a ship left behind. Our love was no fortress, no anchor, no shield— Just a reckless desire on a war-ravaged field. Like battleships poised, awaiting demise, We bled in the silence; we drowned in the skies. What we had was a blaze, too intense to endure, A fire that consumes, never soft, never pure. With trembling hands, we sculpted a dream, But it melted away in the cruelest of streams. Ours was a spark, a flash in the night, But sparks burn too fiercely, then vanish from sight. You were my inferno, untamed and wild, A tempest, a hurricane—never a child. But wildness is chaos, and chaos destroys, Leaving wreckage and ruins in place of our joys. Two submarines, lurking, silent and dark, Destined to shatter, to miss their mark. Our love was a hunt, a predator’s play, Where the hunter and hunted both lost their way. The vision of us dissolves into dust, Betrayed by desire, dismantled by lust. For ours was no empire, no tale carved in stone, But a fleeting inferno, destined to be overthrown. A love never meant to last or to soar, But to crumble and crack—the wreckage we wore. Exploding like cannon fire, brittle and brief, Two hearts chained together, trapped by grief. We were submarines, doomed to collide, In the endless abyss of an untamed tide. A love born to blaze and then simply cease, A shipwreck of passion, devoid of peace.