The blink of an eye is all it takes
to break a
heart.
Before it all, the words flow like
racing rivers- gleaming, shining, glowing
with the warmth of love in your
heart.
Never-ending waterfalls- the point of attachment for millions of
hopeful streams, all aimed at one common goal.
Love is the force that engulfs,
empowering the water to overtake twists and forks, allowing it to gloss over and
smooth lethal ridges and deathly points.
The ultimate happiness is a drug in the purest form.  It pumps
adrenaline through your veins,
powers the perfect sunlight that is your
heart.
“I love you,”
Three words morph into your oxygen, thrilling, exciting.
They grow as prosperous vines, dancing with their faces to the light, weaving a resilient net to
catch you when you fall:
a safety net under a trapeze artist.  The picture of
elegance and grace flying like a dove through the air,
reassured by the strong binds that await below.
They deplete the danger and risk with familiar safety and warm, encompassing
love.
The surrounding crowd grows larger, passing judgment, encouraging the pair to do the impossible.  But
no matter what the crowd feels, the eyes of the artist are locked in those of
the net, brimming with trust,
hearts
overflowing with
love.
Then, unseen scissors creep from the stands of spectators.
Masked by the façade of “curiosity,”
they inch closer and closer.
While you fly high above the world, immersed in breathtaking choreography, they deviously
plot their first attack.
Darkness soon blankets the arena- the scissors have pierced the seemingly
ever-abundant flow of electricity.
You falter, but knowing your safety net is there is the
only necessary reassurance.
After all, the show must go on.
Then with its demonic motives,
the scissors, cloaked in their “curiosity,”
find their way to your high wires and swings.
They flawlessly become his voice, familiar and safe in the eerie darkness.
But contradictory to your expectations, they promote hazy messages; it makes
you dizzy.
Options flying, frantic birds darting in a tornado of doubt, yet with golden emblems of
happiness glinting in their feathers.
They make you feel impelled to test your safety, even though the
heart
inside your chest doubts that you will ever be dropped.
So,
you dive.
Feeling secure, you plunge headfirst from your perch, high above the earth.  You wait for
his inviting arms to blanket you, to stop you from falling, to be your net,
but you are never caught.
The fall splinters your
heart,
crushing the edges, crumbling off pieces, leaving
permanent
scars.
But with that ridiculous gleam of love in your all-too-trusting eyes, you wait for
his logical explanation.
Suddenly, the curtain of confusing darkness is lifted.
You spot his familiar brown eyes, not searching for yours, but
dreaming about another’s.  Your net, your safety, has become intoxicated with visions of
her.
Before you can say a word, “perfect” and “beautiful” refer to
her.
Instead of seeing yourself with him, all you can see is that he has distanced himself to the point that all you can see is him with
her. 
She
is his new wonder, his new artist to guard, protect, and
love.
“How long?”  A feeble thought escapes before you can even calm the
burning tears on your cheeks.  As he reveals in the most careless manner,
he left the moment the darkness fell.
Tears might as well be streams, the same streams once combined together, now
separated into individual droplets, invisible to his preoccupied brown eyes.
The black once again rushes into the arena,
but this time, it cloaks only you.  Like ghastly shades, ominous clouds of dark, never ending doom,
the fingers of this obscure darkness encircle you, placing you into the eye of a tornado.  It
separates you, making an impenetrable wall, retraining you from him.
However, the curtain has only made residence in your
heart.
Light shines in the rest of the arena, beyond the black that surrounds you.
The dark greedily burrows into you, finding the healing weaknesses of your earlier fall
and rooting residence there,
stretching out, maliciously forcing its bleak arms into the walls of your
heart,
decomposing it.
“I love you,”
Three words become your death; a joke on your foolish trust.
A figure appears in the distance, and his new fascination reveals herself to you.
“Perfect,” he claimed.
“Beautiful,” he called her.
Even through your blurred vision, all that you see of
her
is a figure hidden behind makeup and camera filters.
The scissors once again become the flawless replica of his voice.  “You’ll never be
her,” they taunt, “You will never be that beautiful, that perfect.”

The idea of her stealing him had been present all along,
but it only truly manifested itself when darkness fell.  In his
heart,
she has replaced you, 
out shined you,
bested you.
Hurt and weak,
you stop functioning.  Your oxygen has been stolen and handed to
her.
Taking advantage of your helpless state, dark hands extend from the shadows and
snatch you for themselves.
It becomes clear that they have been waiting for you from the
first “I love you.”
But until now, he has been there to shield your fragile, trusting, loving
heart.