She sits in front of the fireplace
And cries
Cries for the memories
That lifetimes have made her forget
Until times like these
When it's just her and the fire
Staring each other down
Until the phantoms of lost flesh
Sweep across her mind
And she dies again
Not from the wound of her betrayer
But from the ghost of his kindness
That seems so vivid at times like these
From miles away
I feel her death spasms
I feel the weight of a foreign object
In Our chest
I feel this
Because I was her savior
Right before I murdered her heart
~Matt Magus
