What She Makes

She makes your smile spread, even on days of dread.

She makes your laugh rise, like a beautiful reprise.

She makes your heart skip, from reality, you rip.

She makes all of these things, as if on accident, she loves you, given no precedent.

But what else can she make? From your head to your heart, emotions, she rakes.

As time passes, you realize, these beautiful truths, they seemed different at first, beautiful, yes, in youth.

But as they age, they turn ugly and rigid, the warm smile she once made now stiff, and frigid.

It was beautiful, yes, but was it true? These beautiful things, now a lie to you.

You want what you had, you can't get it back, love seems to fade, always into black.

You try to hold on, you grip with all your might, but it slips from you, like a soul, from life.

Soon it's all gone, the end drawing near; you open your mouth, you're screaming in fear.

The two of you rage, over the body of your love, who was it that killed, this innocent dove?

It was her, not you! You wouldn't do this, but think back, back to then, is there something you miss?

The love you two had, it lies dead there before you, did one of you kill it, or did it take two?

The nights end the same, slammed doors, tears on the sheets, if only you could go back to days oh so sweet.

You don't want to leave, but this corpse of yours, it barks at your soul, gnawing through the doors.

It's not your fault, you try to say, but your voice is hard, do you want her dismay?

Every thought that you have, no matter how bright, each thought that you think, turns cold by the night.

You can't take it, so you finally leave, that girl you once loved, left there to weep.

As the time passes, day by day, you wish you could call, but you know not what to say.

You do start to miss, that beautiful smile, that wonderful laugh; anything would be done, just for her kiss.

But the love is far dead, all the way buried, you dug the grave together, never to be married.

So what did she make? It's hard to remember, and though love is dead, she has no true contender.

You miss those creations, beautiful as they were, every thought you had, her wonderful temptations.

You want to return, you don't know how, but since love is dead, it is too late, now.