Notice the tears that shatter the glass with every pitter patter, their gentleness deceitful as they seep through the cracks and burn the naysayers. The blissful joy breaks, turning the celebration into graveyard lamentation in the blink of an eye. There, he lays. A figure of strong masculinity, the figure of a hero. I sigh. Then, the corpse melts, steam arising forth. He regenerates like a phoenix in rebirth from its own ashes.
He lived. He shouldn't have.
From the melted corpse rose a silver skeleton. He shines brighter than ever before, but crimson liquid taints his new body. The blood starts to react. It burns him. He starts to wince, he starts to squirm, until it burns down to his newly solidified flesh, and it now degrades him. He is wrapped in cracking orange, and with every move he makes, he leaves a powdered residue.
He finally decides to leave his coffin. He steps, he squeaks. He stops to look at his imperfect physique and starts to cry. It breaks me when he cries. He was my hero, the one I look up to with so much respect.
Until now.
He turns to look at me, his gaze piercing the depths of my grieving soul. It burns. God, it burns. I feel the intensity of his pain, and it shrivels up my insides. He grabs me by the neck, staring directly into my wilting eyes. With a shrill whisper he says, "It's all your fault."
I crumble. It consumes me in an unending loop.
It's all your fault...
It's all your fault...
It's all your fault...
My heart shatters. Now, I shine brighter than ever before. The tears glisten my face in the graveyard moonlight. I see the remains of a man I once knew slowly asphyxiating me, making me less of the woman I knew myself to be.
I succumb. I despise him, but he didn't get the chance to know that before I left.
