The Weeping Chandelier

I light up your night
With smoky teardrops
Of finely cut crystal.
So many sparkling facets.
You forget it is I
Who lights your path;
I am your spotlight.
And how you dazzle
When I am there.

You forgot that you needed me.
I became a commodity.
Like all others.
Unconditional.
Eternally present and engendered to serve you.

Disposable.

By my soft beams you saw her face.
By my radiance you danced with her.
So, spider-like, I rose above you
And retreated to my zenith,
Where, one by one, I put out each flame in my heart
So many candles
That I laboured day and night.

So slowly that you didn’t notice the light gradually dim.
And as it did, she grew more beautiful,
Her cracks hidden in the fading dusk.
Only when the lights went out.
Did you realise that
You were merely the moon
And that it was I who was the sun.

How vain you are, as you dance on,
Awaiting a dawn that will never come.
In the darkness you don’t see the tears
Of I, your weeping chandelier.

Once again a tale of reflected beauty. Seems to be a recurrent theme…

For three days I cried without respite. I set my heart ablaze with love for him, and like Prometheus, was punished: every day my heart was viciously torn out. I sleep. I heal. Then once again, I go through the cycle. I just seem to be taking once day at a time. Yesterday was the first day that I managed not to cry. Today is the second, despite M making a rendezvous to explain everything next Thursday. A small victory.