The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet

The throne

I really like this one, a lot of angst, sorry, we just really get along. Plus, I broke up with happiness a long time ago.

And I walked down the aisle holding my sword tightly in my sweaty hands. And there you were, waiting patiently for me, your forehead damp with blood. I didn't know whether it was yours or not. I didn't care either. I looked at you angrily and sheathed my weapon. You did so too and, as if in afterthought, you hugged me. I kept still, enduring the invasion, and when you finally turned and sat on the tall throne you had won through sweat and blood, I sank to the floor. And then you spoke, loud and clear: "I have won, you have lost."

And I replied, "I forfeit, the crown is yours. Was it worth it?"

And you cocked your head in confusion. "Of course it was worth it!" You exclaimed. "I control the world! I own the world!"

And I just sank lower. You then stood up, crown glinting under the late sun, and kneeled before me. You held my hand between your own and kissed my forehead softly. I cringed. "Love," you said, and tears formed in my eyes, "I am sorry. But it was necessary."

"I was 'necessary'!?" I cry. "You mean invading my home, my creation!? You defied your own GOD!!"

You smiled and sat in front of me, eye level with me, "But that's where you're wrong," you reply softly. I just stare dumbfounded at you as you caress my cheek, as if you were about to kiss me. "You were never my God." And you leaned forward as the knife in my chest twisted deeper and I was killed, made human once more because I let myself love. My very last mistake...