Beatrice’s Lament

You used to call me your Beatrice

you said you'd move Heaven and Earth

just to find me;

that I should be

the subject of every

painting in your museum.

But I should have known that

you were like Dante;

never wanting to know me

while I was alive,

and I should have known that

to put me on that pedestal,

first I would have to die.

We used to sing to each other

the most beautiful songs,'

but mine came straight from the heart

and yours was fake all along.

Now I'm a ghost of myself,

I'll never be what I was,

Because

You killed every part of me you loved

so you could hang it on your wall,

you slowly poisoned my mind

so you could become my all,

you put me up in Heaven

so I didn't know that

I was in Hell.

And I think that I know now

why you had to kill me;

because you just don't know how to love

anything that's living.

And I think that I know now

that she was never me,

so you can keep your Beatrice,

but you will never have me.