I've loved you for a very long time. But you're so blind, so stupid.

You say all these pretty things and do all these pretty deeds and you just ignore the ugliness, because you don't see how that could have anything to do with you.

But I love you anyway, and what does that make me?

Maybe just hopeless.

And then you find her, and it's my doom and my chance all at once because she is beauty, and I am ugliness. And before this you were beauty, and would not notice ugliness.

But sadness is not beautiful, for all the lovely words that have been said and all the beautiful things that have been made. Sadness cannot be beautiful. It is too magnetic, real, alive.

Beauty floats on the ethereal. Ugliness dances to the pulsing beat.

And your first foray into ugliness left you yearning for beauty but wanting more. And I was there, and I loved you. And I offered myself, and you took.

And even as you loved my ugliness, you screamed for beauty.

I wept so you could not see, and died so that you might have your beauty.

And you mourned life in passing. But you never were human enough to stay among the ugliness. You were born for a world of beauty, and who was I and who were we to try to keep you from it?

But-

For just a moment, I had you.

It was almost enough.