You took my love, like ore from the ground.

You broke it up ready to be smelted, and in my heart I saw you forging and fusing me with you until both our essence was combined into something beautiful.

It turned out my eyes were wrong, instead of forging bands, I watched helplessly as you wielded the hammer to break apart all that precious intricate work, only for you to reform it into something else.

For as I watched, helpless to know what was going on, you struck the steel into shape and in my blind confusion I tempered the steel with words I hoped would cool the flames licking at the cherry steel in your hands.

While I closed my eyes to protect them from the heat spewing from the roaring flames like those from a dragon’s breath, I heard the sound I feared most, a rasping noise from the corner of the room where I was unable to gaze.

And then it happened, a cold gentle pressure against my chest grew into intolerable pain as a knife slid into my heart. And it dawned on me that all this time you’d been taking what we’d made together and shaping it for my destruction all the while calling it a piece of art called love.