You know that feeling? That tingling in your gut, that little sensation at the base of your spine? That feeling like a rope being pulled tight? Yeah, I'm about to tumble down and land with a splat. I'm about to make the jump with my eyes shut. I'm about to fall in love with you.

You are the personification of elegance. Your eyes are emeralds and forests and shards of jade and the flutter of your lashes when you blink makes me cough up my heart onto your outstretched palm. Your words are dipped in gold and they glitter and flash as they slip gracefully from between your perfect lips.

I want to say something, but my words are clunky and slow and remain lodged somewhere in my diaphragm.

Your face is so beautiful it breaks my heart.

Your soul shines out of your smoky eyes, raw and unfiltered like the first drag off of a cigarette. It pumps its poison along the inside lining of your lungs, just as your soul shoves its way through your bronchi and settles deep below your sternum only to erupt out of your pores.

It swirls out of your open mouth like the words you bless with your silver-tongued charm and I try to steal it away with a kiss, but it melts away into thin air right before my eyes.

You try to smile at me through your sudden doubt and the tiny, trembling curve of your lips makes me want to cry. Your hands look different when they're not wrapped around their scepter.

The delicate strands of your sanity wind around my fingers as I stroke your hair and watch the moonlight flicker over the indent between your exposed clavicle. I try to pull them tighter, try to make them strong, but they snap under my caresses and shiver, broken, as they float to the ground to be crushed under our heels.

You inhale sharply, desperately, and the rush of cold mountain air burns down my trachea as though we were one.

Your words stutter out of your larynx, choked and strangled. I stare in bewilderment. The polished varnish of your sophistication has been chipped away to reveal the ugly words that lie shivering beneath, naked in their brutal honesty.

A flash of vaguely white teeth is all that's left of your once great grin, a beaten shadow of its former self. It stretches tight across your face, forced and fake, and I feel my ribs splintering, my spleen bursting as I watch.

Your muscles quiver. I thrust out a hand to help, but you wave it away, the clear pretense of control giving you all the support you need.

I remember, as I hold your frail hand, the times you were fierce and brave and wild. You were the moon and you orbited me like I was the Earth, like I was your entire planet, your entire world. You were fearless and I was drunk off the emotions thrumming along the column of my throat and the fire shooting down the curve of my arched spine.

You were a puzzle and a charmer and you had me wrapped around your finger and sitting in the palm of your hand in the time it takes a hunter to set up the bait.

And I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

But now, burned out from tempting fate too many times, you're weak and fragile. And I'm strong, trained by years of your manipulation and deceit. I thought you were a queen and you thought I was your king. It could have been perfect, would have been a fairytale, if only both of us truly understood the other.

You set out the bait before you understood your prey. I loved my queen before I knew the throne she sprawled across.

I fell for pretty, meaningless words and your glossy, superficial charm. I fell for beautiful bones and silk hair, I fell for the careless grace in your tiniest movements and the bladed cheekbones of a warrior.

I thought you were a hero and you were coming to save me. You didn't know I could save myself.

You saw easy prey, an easy kill. You ensnared me with roses and breezy charm until the air was so thick with the stars you painted for me that I couldn't breathe.

You saw it as a rescue when it was a kidnapping, a manipulation. You didn't want to save me, you wanted to capture me and lock me inside a golden cage.

I was a nightingale and you were the hunter. I flew free, above winding rivers and icy mountain tops, until you shot me down with your arrow of poisonous charisma, lulling an injured bird into a plush golden cage before I realized it had a lock.

And now, now you're dying and I'm smarter, stronger than you ever were. Before long, the only lasting memory of you will be tattooed across the inside of my pulmonary artery and locked away forever.

I let go of your hand for the last time and paint the sky with shimmering stars made from your tears.

A/N: I'm not going to lie, this is probably the most far-out thing I have ever written. I was experimenting with poetry, but I found it difficult, so I modified it so that the poetry came in choppy vignette form. I mixed in a few random anatomy parts, because I felt like this was so spacey it needed something physical to ground it. It's...weird, no denying it, but hopefully you liked it and struggled along.

My inspiration was of Bela's personality, which is obviously broken and damaged and jaded, exaggerated into poisonous charm. And Dean, who is funny and hopeful (remember, we're working with season 3 personalities here!), is exaggerated into a sweeter, younger, more naive man. As the story goes, Dean realizes that Bela isn't who she pretends to be (strong,independent, brave, fearless) and is actually a mess with an incurable broken heart, suffocating him. As she fades away, he regains control of his life and understands for the first time who she really was, and who he really is.

If you suffered through all of that, bless your heart and I love you. Please leave a review, especially one with a favorite line or part (if you can find one within this mess!), because I have never really tried poetry before, and I'm so nervous. Terrified, actually. I've worked on this for weeks. I hope you liked it.