Your voice rang like golden chimes
when you sang your love to a
throng of strangers. But
they didn't see how your heart
split and ripped inside your chest.
They mistook your tears for
sweat, your misery for art.
From the shadows of the wing,
I watched you die in minute
ways. Behind your mask of fame,
I saw your grimace and the
ashen hue of your face. Beneath
the shield of well-toned muscle,
I saw the blackened heart.
As you wept for her, I grieved
my own loss, knowing that she
was the one, and I am merely
one. I left before you ended
the song, hating my one-ness,
while loving my one.
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