I watched her fall apart.

But first, I saw the little sadist inside her peek out. It happened somewhere between Rocky Horror and my mother calling, "checking up" on me. It happened on her basement floor.

She blamed all she could on me. She picked me apart, and did it all with a grin that made me sick. I let her. Still, a simple breath of air can make you look at someone in a whole new light.

This is not her, I told myself. It can't be. This isn't my darling... Right?

I still wonder if it was.

She Faltered. Realized what was happening. I just remember hearing, "why did i do that?"

I watched her fall apart in front of me, build herself back up as everything I detest, then shatter again to make something beautiful. This was Metamorphosis racing at full tilt down some self-destructive highway.

Nothing has such power, as memories and scars

So I held her, I held her as she cried. She doesn't cry in front of anyone. But she cried for me. That's enough.

where you've been, where you are

After I left, she got on the computer and sent me an email, apologizing for all she did, thanking me for my support, my faith... in her.

I replied. I was sweet, I told her that I loved her, not the way she was acting. I did, I didn't know why, though, and that bothered me.

I had to find some validation. Why I still loved her after she treated me this way, so I told her the first reason I thought of.

Your smile undoes me

It still does... I want you to know that.