If only I'd known

it was I who bore the curse,

maybe you'd be alive.

Maybe this wouldn't hurt.

I could wonder maybes all day long

but the facts still would never change:

I'd still be missing you

consumed in my own guilt,

you'd still be lying in my arms

having died at my own hand.

Our future, that

had once seemed bright

draining to the color of blood

to match my deep red cloak.

If only I'd known

it was I who bore the curse,

maybe you'd be alive.

Maybe this wouldn't hurt.