You tore her apart. Limb by limb. Smile by smile. Thought by thought.
How could you do that to her?
Her smile had been big, despite of all the times that her lips had been shut tight,
tight because no one paid attention to the thoughts that would dwell around in her busy mind,
tight because no one would ever listen when those same lips would feverishly try to form the words she had been wanting to say, before she would lose all the courage she had to muster just to murmur them once more,
tight because she soon learned that it was better for her to have nothing to say.
Her eyes had been bright, despite of all the eyes she had had to look into and pretend that they weren't looking back at her in the most sneakily malevolent way; eyes that reflected a deceitful kind of darkness, the kind that would creep up on you just when you would happen to be looking into the light.
Her eyes were just as bright as the sun on a summer morning; even encompassing its warmth.
She was content, not complacent. She was not Icarus, so answer me this; why must she have suffered his same fate?
It happened in a matter of seconds. It was as if her wings had melted; she started to plummet down an endless ocean,
one so dark, that it had turned off every bright light inside of her.
How could you?
A once vivacious soul now turned dull due to turmoil
How could you have done this to her?
You crept up on her in the middle of the night. As sly as a fox, as quiet as a mouse.
You slowly started to blow out all of the candles that took her countless tears to learn how to light, let alone maintain lit.
Her once bright eyes and vivacious soul had been reduced to puffy eyes and an indescribable hollowness.
You started to let her body rot; cell by cell, bone by bone, muscle by muscle, limb by limb.
Her once fruitful garden of a soul, now but a cemetery to bury her blown out candles in.
A once free young woman, now ruled by inhibition.
You are cold. Evil. Dark. Iniquitous. Foul.
Constantly on the prowl for another body to rot.
Other candles to blow out.
But you seem to forget.
Even after the gloomiest of nights, the sun comes up. It always does.
Remember that she is not Icarus; she is the sun itself.
The sun will come up; the candles shall be lit again and her soul will flourish anew,
because the sun always comes up.
She always does.
