This poem is about Pegasus, and his feelings about losing Cecelia.
The portrait hung upon the wall
Its delicate eyes haunting
The shy smile on a beautiful face
The face radiant with love
Love for the painter, who, with every stroke
Tried to recreate his life
His life that shone in her beauty
On that perfect day, frozen in time
Frozen, like his heart
Or what was once a heart
She was his soul, his spirit, his joy
All of that was gone now
Stolen away at its peak
Never to be found again
He had lost that chance
The seeds of his renewal had sprouted
Then been destroyed in the searing heat
And numbing cold that was love
His life had been absorbed in games
A small meaningless purpose
That barely kept him alive
A frivolous game wasn't much
His creations only shielded the void
He tried and hoped in vain
To find fulfillment in a lonely world
Where all his life had faded
Leaving only illusions and myths
Only a sorrowful longing
As she soared gracefully in the sky
His wings were bare and broken
Pure white feathers
From her wings of hope
Floated away on the wind
As the shadow on his heart
Blackened his own