Broken Angel

a pained letter to my angel including a poem I wrote of her

My heart thudded uncontrollably inside my chest as my eyes burned with hot unshed tears. She turned away from me ignoring me, resting her head in her arms and crying silently to herself. I cringe. The worst way to cry is to cry silently and have it go unheeded by helpful others. I wanted to hold her, and kiss her forehead and make her understand that I was just angry. I didn’t mean those things I said. They were mean, deep, and hurtful. Like a thousand rusted nail and knives pounding rhythmically into her heart. How could I be so heartless? Though her exterior is tough and unyielding her interior is as gentle and soft as a sweet little puppy. Her heart was bleeding in my hands and there was nothing I could do to stop it. All I could do was say how sorry I was and hope for hope that she would forgive me. Then again how could she? I hurt her. I hurt her harder then her sharp-tongue ever did me. I really was sorry. More than sorry!


I love her. I love her more than anything else in my life. More than my parents, more than my friends all rolled into one. Take the happiest you’ve ever felt in your entire existence. Multiple it by sixty-seven trillion planets, add the white-hot intensity of a zillion suns, and then times it by thirty-three thousand million infinite galaxies. That isn’t even an eight of an eighth of how strongly I feel about my beautiful angel, my beautiful broken angel.


Remember the day I said I love you?

For the first time in my life I said those words and meant it.

I meant it then and I still mean it now.

I love you


Remember the day I said hate you?

The most vicious lie I’ve spoken in my life

I never meant what I said that day

Because I can never imagine my life without you

And when I try

I am nothing anymore


Remember I love you

When I softly stroke your hand

And feel a sudden shock of loneliness at night

When I am not with you


Remember I love you

When I tell you each day

Because I love you for whom you are

And those words become truer

With each passing day


I cannot even begin to explain how much I loathe myself for hurting her. It makes me want to cut myself deeper and deeper until I finally feel the burning pain that she must feel. I try to comfort her, and ask her if it was what I’d said to her, even though I knew the answer already. A tiny nod of the head is all the answer I needed from her to make my heart shatter into a million pieces. I wanted to cry.


Why cry? It does no one any good. Crying won’t help me now. Crying won’t help tell the woman I love, that I love her with every fibre of my being. Crying won’t tell my broken angel the truth. Crying won’t tell her that I love her, and that I will never stop loving her. When she cries my heart goes out to her, for she is vulnerable and sensitive.


She said she hated me. What else could I do but say I was sorry and that I love? Nothing. I can’t bear being the one to hurt her. I want her to let me hold her and comfort her and kiss her while she cries but no. I am the one who hurt her. I am the one she loathes. I am the one who broke my angels heart. If I could go back in time and stop myself from saying those words I would. I would if I could but I can’t. It’s as if I’m shut out from her. Isolated in the abyss that is controlling my mind. I hate myself. I do not loathe myself, or despise myself...I HATE myself. I feel like I’m drowning. Drowning in guilt and emotional torment.


There is nothing I can do by wait. Wait for fate to deal the evil hand on me as he has done many times before. I do not wish to lose my love. I cannot bare my life without her. If I could drag her outside and hold her close I’d tell her. I’d tell her that I love her more than anything that ever has, does, or is to exist in all of existence. I’d tell her that I’d be there for her as long as she needs me. I’d tell her that I love her. I love you my angel and I am sorry that I broke your heart, when I am the one who’s supposed to fix it. I’d give my soul for you. I love you.


The end.

The End

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