My First Lament

Youth carries with itself folly,
Love carries with itself blindness;
blindness not to the negative,
but blindness to miss what was never there.
The heart that I gave hath returned to me,
Shattered.
Slit.
Cut.
What more could I say of this affair?
Was it not beautiful, as of a gift from heaven?
Was it not something potent, enough to stop time itself?
Was it not lovely, those moments of togetherness?
But now, they have all turned out to be mere lies,
A pretentious affair,
A charade with a ruthless end.
Should we mortals so endeavour such travesty?
Such devastation?
Perchance;
To learn,
To heal,
To grow wisdom.
All I could say, now at the end of things, is this:
Darkness has dawned; something beautiful has died; a heart has been broken; a soul maimed.