A/N: Blackwater drabble, delivered in a semi-poetic format, which I wanted to try developing after revising through an anthology. Based on assumptions derived from Breaking Dawn and on a compelling desire to grant Clearwater a wish. Inspiration: Rossetti.
Do try to enjoy.
If only you had seen, Renesmee, we were two halves of a broken heart. Had half of our hearts each - half a heart to smile with, half a heart to cry for, half a heart to live by.
The pain we concealed behind an unbreakable mask, the weakness we built in supernatural strength. Like living sculptures - shattered and cracked, almost ancient.
Yet I knew - and he knew - the moment our lips touched. We were one.
*
He said to me last, before he left my bed in but little hurry, that all he was to do was see you for friendship's sake. He bid me - wait for my return.
'Til the clock chimed midnight I waited by the sill - waited 'til the sun did rise and stirred my sight. No shadow of his appeared. My bed lay empty, my side cold, vacant.
That morning I found out, told by Billy, who else? All in one breath. I could have died. Jacob - my Jacob - had imprinted.
Only contentment I saw on his face the day he brought you with him, happiness in his eyes and devotion in his smile.
"Goodbye, my love," said he, to me who gave him all. "Forgive me, Leah - I loved you well and true, but my heart now belongs to someone other than you."
A kiss on my hand, a kiss and nothing more. His back, that adoring smile, and then I was alone.
I was alone.
*
But you see, Renesmee, life is fair afterall.
Fate deprived me of love - of Jacob and of Sam - and handed them to you and Emily. Fate gave you all their love, and left nothing for me to behold.
And fate took my Jacob and gave him to you, Renesmee, so you may call him your Jacob. Stripped him of the love he once only held for me and made him mine no more.
Fate took much away and gave me little back.
But you see, Renesmee, life is still fair. Even to Leah Clearwater.
Because I have a precious gift that you have not, and one which I doubt you will ever get. Because for all the claim you hold on Jacob and him on you, and for all the love that he reserves for you, I have little faith you ever will get to hold what precious gift I have.
For fate gave me my russet-skinned son - my gift, my shame, my pride. My precious, lovely, perfect little boy - one with a father he shall not meet, and a mother he shall not leave.
You would pay all the sum for one, I know, and Jacob would give anything for mine. But a mother's love shall never be yours to know, Renesmee - only an envy, as Jacob is to me.
And this little boy, this precious gift of mine - my little Jacob - shall forever remain my own.
All mine, Renesmee, all mine and never yours.
A/N: I have never really been into poetic formats. Though I must say, I like the vindictive tone. Reviews? :)