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.