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She spread her love like wildfire,

And devoured all his soul,

He tasted her like old red wine,

And slipped out of control.



She knew that she would stand for him,

Defend his honor and his name,

And she knew that if he failed again,

She'd be the one to take the blame.



For him, she'd be the anchor: strong,

And he same for her,

But what neither he nor she considered,

Is that tragedies occur.



So when he died, she weeped for loss,

For sorrow and for pain,

Alone she began, alone she'd continued,

And alone she would remain.



Alone, she'd write an ode for him,

In the silence of her room,

And alone, the solitude emptied her,

As her words were all consumed.



Into the night and into the morning,

Played the horror in her mind,

Softened little by the prayers,

And the answers she couldn't find.



She suffered long, she thrived on pain,

But through his memory she learned,

That happiness is never given,

It's something that you earn.