His words were sweet addictions,
his hugs the gift of life.
His lips like peppermint candies,
his eyes an icy light.
But bit by bit, and day by day.
He took with him a piece:
Her smile, her love, her laugh-
torn away with lustful heat.
A burning desire for revenge,
a hateful blackened heart.
Until a broken piece of empty sadness
was left in place of a heart.
The knife seemed so real,
so shiny yet unspoken.
It whispered words of rage,
Into her unfading loneliness.
And one tear was all she had left
when she took it to the heart.
Empty, alone, and broken,
when the devil had come to claim her heart.
Because there was no hope,
no there never really was.
For a girl so sad and broken,
One who'd only been torn apart.
So she died.
But she had one thing to say.
Words scribbled on her arm,
ones that couldn't be taken away.
Written in red, stained to her skin
were three little words.
Three whispers in the wind.
The cause of her destruction,
the cause of desolation:
Were three little words written in red.
Three words that screamed "I'm broken,"
three words that said I loved him."
