Hurts

What do you do when you love but your lover is surrounded by the grasp of death all around him and it all somehow gets strained on you? What do you do when just as death surrounds, love seems to be the sacrifice? Nobody ever seems to know how to respond, nobody ever teaches you about these things...At the back of my mind I believe that I didn't waste my tender love, another part of me feels nothing but the empty pit of disappointment that swallows me up inside. No hope, barely light, just tear after tear as I fall deeper and deeper in despair in love. It's been this way for months now, within weeks growing further and further restricted. I try to fight this torment but I can't because at the back of my mind I know of love but cannot see it; cannot reach it. 

Oh how has it come to be that I dread my only lover holding me when they say one thing and do another? There is always a reason, always a understanding but never with me it seems. Death takes another one day, death takes a second the next. How can I compete with Death to find the love that I fear is lost to me? For no one can compete with death; nor the tight hold of a dying mother upon their beloved son. Even  life seems to convert my lover with the yells and screams of others pouring through his ears, even when he opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. 

My heartbreaks at every tear drop while I wait endlessly for my lover, in the halls, in the rooms, in the streets I see him not. Will he be forever gone to me while I wait in torment of him, for him, in myself as my mind cracks to pieces on the sidelines? No room for me it says, it seems and yet I know not what is or isn't anymore. 

Pain, ever so dying pain feels me as I'm stuck. Each blow the worst, each blow harder than the next to my already shattered heart. My lover never means to hit me and just like he never means to he dodges my blows. This isn't what I deserve...Deserve? You say as if it were meant for me but it's not, I'm not. I know not what I deserve, nor what it means. 

Once more I stand before their raised hand, battered and broken, tear filled and shaken. 'I believe in me and him; I believe that everything I took before wasn't a mistake'. So I let him strike me again and again and again for the thing that I have left, however little is belief.