Inside on the darkest of nights,
there is fear in your eyes,
and sadness in your heart,
and I see you before me,
and I see you torn apart,
and I see unhappinness arriving rapidly,
unhappinness growing with each one of your spoken miseries,
of which you gladly give to me from your sorrowful heart,
your sorrowful heart which overshadows me like the black of the night,
and your mood it colours mine,
as the tears stream from your eyes,
and my mind is subdued and low because of the bitterness and the sadness inside you,
sadness that is eating away at you and leaving such a cursed mark,
and here as we stand,
I want to be an angel,
but your love it was shattered and damned,
and violent and angry,
and there was no good in it that I could see,
and I did not know where to start,
and I could not have made it any better,
because it had been a situation that should never have been,
and it was cruel,
so cruel and mean,
and as destructive as could be,
and terrible to see,
terrible to see,
such anguish,
such terrible agony,
and the bruises and the scratches and the cuts,
will live with you eternally in your memory,
and I am not an angel,
and I unfortunately cannot erase this agony magically,
and woe is me,
as before me I see,
your sad eyes,
and tear drops,
as I look at you and I listen to your screams and your sighs,
and as I do you verbally rip out your insides,
and I feel as helpless as can be,
as you rant and rage,
and smash anything in sight with such a might,
and with such monstrous violence,
but I understand it and it does not frighten me,
and oh, how I feel for you,
but there is not much that I can do as you get the anger out of you,
and then after you do, you sit down and break down and cry,
and you are exhausted after having explained angrily what you were put through,
and then, you reach out to me,
and you hold me tight,
and I feel your heart beat,
beat so rapidly next to mine in the night,
and your tears, oh, how they pour from your eyes,
such beauties,
beauties but caused by such terrible memories,
terrible memories of those terrible times,
those horrific times,
and as I feel your heart beat next to mine so rapidly,
I can only hope for the best,
and hope that you will never be put through again what you were put through,
and your tears they flow unwittingly into your wine,
and the colour of it, it suits the mood of my mind,
red,
my mind is of a mood of bloody red,
and I,
I am seething with anger,
and I am no angel,
and I hate your ex valentine,
but I shouldn’t upon him waste my time,
but the feeling of anger is hard to shift,
hard to shift as you hold me tight,
and your tears,
they flow rapidly down your cheeks,
as you look at me so sorrowfully in the flickering candlelight.