Atreyu

[Her Portrait In Black.]

She was never the type of girl
    To repost myspace bulletins
That promised she would be
Kissed by a lover.
  Or the ones that told her she would have the
Best day of her life next... what was it...
            Friday?
But, oh, if she did repost those bulletins,
You would be the one to kiss her that
Lucky Friday.

[Love is an obsessive bitch.]

The day that she died,
    Your veins burst open
As if in protest to this atrocity.
And through the wounds
  Her soul leaped into your veins.
So she could be with you forever.
    Yet again,
You’re stuck in some kind of
  Obsession,
But now she is [part of you.]
Instead of [close to you.]

And during the night,
    You can feel her fingers trail along
The inside of your veins
As she runs along the tunnels inside of you.
  She skips and laughs as she tries to
Make it through your hollow veins and
Finally reach your heart.
  [She is your blood now, she is what
You consist of.]

You see what she [wants] you to see.
You are party blind, apparently,
    Because you don’t see the world.
You can’t see anything besides what
She once touched or what she once
  Loved.
It is and obsession.

It is her maniacal laughter that echoes
  Through your head at night.
That high-pitched shriek that you
Thought was beautiful for some reason...
And now your head pulses with every
Step she takes,
    Every single feeling you have
Is now hers.

She is your blood.
      She is your thoughts.
            She is your life.

But here’s three words if you haven’t
Figured it out already.

Its called [love.]