The first thing you always feel
Is betrayed.
How could you? You cry.
How could you leave me
After all I did to be what you wanted?
How can you look at the twisted shape
Of the malformed creature
I made myself into
And say you don’t love this
Monster of your own creation?
How can you spend months, years
Stitching me together piece by piece,
A living doll made of all the best parts
Of all the more perfect women
You could never get?
How can you bring life to something
So hideous
No one else could love it
And then refuse to love it yourself?
You made me! You,
The Victor Frankenstein of lovers,
Putting in long nights of gruesome work,
Only to walk away when the work is finished,
And I am not what you envisioned.
How dare you.
I was golden once.
I had a soul.
I was whole, imperfect,
Beautifully so. I was new in the world.
I trusted. I loved.
I loved…unwisely.
I fell for the false grandeur of your vision,
Laid out for me like the only path–
The only way a mere mortal
Can hope to be loved by a someday god.
I did not know you were
The god of Death.
And no one ever told me that love
Is not surgery.
Wrote A Pome (Tumblr Backup) 