In The Arms of Defeat

Now you have me. Your gaze is a killer. But the fact is that, even though life is just waiting for a sweet escape –that exhalation of stillness, ultimate stillness-, I defy you.

You froze me -yes, with your stare- and there's nothing left for me other than to smile, in acknowledgment maybe.

Then, oh yes, this war is over; you let my body go –I can still feel the coldness of your grip over my throat. And an irrational force pulls me over, makes me smile once again while I rise: I was the one who broke you're heart, I was the one who turned you into nothing more that perfect demon and you know that, have always known.

You turn around, your back to me and I breathe. My pulse follows the compass of the death, from which I just escaped, weakening me, making me fall on my knees. I know you won't turn: life has had its toll on you too –always the winner, never prepared to give in and especially not into me. Yet again, you did, once more.

Darkness is the muse that surrounds us now. Darkness… darkness. And I cannot help but to cling to the sound of the rain to feel more alive.

The smile in my face has already vanished, there's nothing more than pain and I wish that this time you wouldn't have given in, that this time you would have ended it: for you, for me, for both.

Pride does no longer exist, if it ever did, only guilt, always guilt. I was the one to break you. I do no longer smile and I wonder who was, in the end, the one to be broken.

We both lie in the arms of defeat, hating each other –what we've become-; agonizing while digging the well of memories, in an attempt to find the reasons why we abandoned hope.

We both sink. We both fall. We both regret; regret to have ever met, regret because life was not other when we did. We, both children of our circumstances, regret…