He never said he didn’t love me. In fact, he never said he did, either. It wasn’t his words that were the clues to his true feelings, it was the way I felt in his presence. You see, when you feel loved, you feel light and ready for the worse life can throw at you. You know deep down that this person has your back and will help shoulder the burden that threatens to overwhelm you.

He never said he didn’t love me, but he never said he did either. I felt the eggs shells I walked on every time we were near. I could have sworn there was a noose hanging loose around my neck, and it was slowly straggling me the farther apart we came. It wasn’t your insecurity that tightened it, it was mine.

He never said he didn’t love me; but he never said he did either. It was his stare that answered. And when he looked at me, I knew, then, that I was free. The release was numbing, like a cut hand being pressed into broken glass. No feeling at all. I knew, then, that he didn’t love me and he didn’t have to say it.

I’m tired. So very tired. Not just my body, but my mind and spirit too. Honestly I feel so close to giving in. I really do. Not much makes me happy anymore. Not much can make me feel. And I don’t mean giving in as in dying. I mean giving in as in trying to be happy. Trying to be something I’m not is so tiring. And I don’t feel much. What I feel is similar to having an arm that fell asleep and you’re shaking the limp thing to wake it up. Only you’re not really asleep and it’s a constant feeling. Sleeping doesn’t help either. Sure, it fills the day, but then you wake up and still feel tired. Just, oh, so tired.

He loved me, I loved the idea of love.

Call me young and stupid;

We moved in soon.

He was an addict, I was addicted to work.

He wrecked the car, I was pregnant.

When he died, I panicked.

Call me young and stupid,

But I love this baby girl.

"Fools, run!"

Never in my life have I seen Dorian sprint out of fear of his own life. It just never happened.

You see, Dorian has this too-badass-to-be-scared-of-anything going for him. And honestly, the man has every right to. He's 6'6" with blond ash hair braided down the left side of his head. Each braid signifies a thousand warriors he's beaten in battle. I've actually never tried to count them, and if you want to challenge the death glare, then be my guess. I'll just stand over here, picking dandelions.

Now if you really want to meet a Goliath, then look no farther. No, not there. Here, to the right. A little more...more. There. Yeah, that's no wall. His name is Divakar. He's a mythical creature you thought only existed in fairy tales. Guarding castles, stealing maiden princesses and looting treasure. You guessed it. He's a dragon. And the funny part? He really did steal a princess. Her name is Uzi.

Ah, Uzi. Now there's a beauty if I ever seen one. And I have, many times. Uzi though? Other than my Briar, she's the most gorgeous woman creation has ever designed. She's a little thing though. Just don't mention her height. Topping at 5'5"; her combated body can deal a mean punch. She'll KO you so fast you won't even know she hit you until you wake up after a two month coma.

My Briar is a sweet honey too, if I say so myself. She's my better half. She's not all bark and no bite, though. She's feisty, that one.

I suppose that just leaves me. My name is Artery, but my family calls me Art or Arty. Don't ask why I'm named after a blood vessel. My parents were hippies, to say the least. I'm just an average sort of guy, really. I work at an office, I take evening classes, eat lunch at noon sharp. You know, the norm. Oh, and to spice it up, I kill people. Champagne?

So now you know a little about my family. I would argue that we aren't as dysfunctional as we sound, but then I'd be lying. That saying that every family as one black sheep is so overrated. Everyone is a nut case in mine.

But I'm getting side tracked here. Back to Dorian running. Even though he hits the weights like a muscle head, and runs like an Olympian track star; I've never seen him just go at the pavement like it pissed in his cereal. I'm staying a good distance ahead of him and he's gaining ground on me. I don't know about you, but it isn't a very comforting sight. I'll keep up the story, more for my benefit because now I'm scared too and need a slight distraction, but I'm warning you that you shouldn't judge if my thoughts wonder.

We stand as a ring of seven,

Over looking mount Olympus

Arguing our beliefs and faiths.

To prove our point,

As one we jump off the cliff

And plummet through the sky.

We fall for a lifetime,

Spinning out of control

Until our minds are black slates.

Red goo engulfs our bodies,

Eating flesh and bones,

Melting us to nothing but souls.

Again we rise,

Nothing more than screaming essences

Clawing for release of this hell.

No longer are we human,

No longer important,

Just Things that once were.

Unidentifiable beings,

With no beliefs or faiths

But endless echoes of silent cries.

I dream of a person so prefect,

Just right for me.

Someone made from clay,

Of love and light.

Someone that drowns my demons,

And burns so bright in the night.

I created a monster.

A thing that obsesses over me,

That threatens to speak his mind.

A menace of actual fright.

Here we are,

Locked in a brutal brawl.

And as I loosen my grip,

Watching the blade come for me;

I smile and think how perfect you are.