~Standing there by a broken tree, her hands are all twisted. She's pointing at me.~

I remember a time when looking at her was the equivalent of looking at a question mark. A stunning intricately sculpted question mark. She puzzled me, and yet I still thought I had her figured out. I never did. I still don't. Everything she displayed was drenched in a stereotyped darkness. But whatever was underneath was something far more magnificent than darkness. It was a beyond black, but brighter than white and yet some sickly unknown shade of gray. Everything she touched with her twisted hands turned to ash that glittered gold in the right lighting. She was like a broken tree willingly growing in what we believe to be every wrong direction. Yet proving us wrong. Growing on me. Until one moment, when she granted me the time of day. I felt the light of the moon point down at me. The chosen victor amoung many fallen.

~And I was damned by the light coming out of her eyes. She spoke with a voice that disrupted the sky.~

The More Than Darkness inside of her sucked me in. And I came to find that it was actually light. Light uknown and far too beautiful for this world. Light the faces around us could never understand. Light you could only see in shadows. Her shadows. Her words sunk deep into my skin, leaked into blood, and quaked every bone within then on I was no longer my own. My everything was damned to forever bathe her shadows, to become drunk on the light within them. The sky above me would never be blue again. And so I welcomed the clouds with eager outstretched arms.

~She said walk on over here to the bitter shade. I will wrap you in my arms and you'll know that you're saved.~

But becoming completely engulfed in her was not so simple and came with great suffering, as many told me it would. The scars from her previous battles refused to fade and became tattoos in her head. Some of the ink from the tattoos melted and dripped into her Light Within Shadows. Darkening her exterior even more, making everything she put to her lips taste bitter. She made me understand that if I was to sit in the shadows of her ever growing broken tree, I would have to taste its bitter fruit with her. It was then that I presented to her water of my own. It's the purest I know. And I was certain it would've saved her from having to taste the poisonous fruits ever again. She then welcomed me into the shade but warned that she would not drink the water just yet and that I would continue to suffer.

~Let me sign~

Sufffering never looked more blissful.