Wilted are the Roses
I wish I could be with her right now, holding her hand, tucking her in my embrace where she can be safe from all evil; to just see her eyes sparkle when I bend down to kiss her, whispering that I love her.
I wish I could have been there when Sailor Jupiter died, so that I could have blocked her eyes, innocent and horrified, from watching as Jupiter's body sprawled on the ground and never got up.
I wish I could have taken her to my apartment straight after Mercury's funeral; I wish she didn't look as if badly betrayed.
If I had but been at her side when Venus' chain snapped, to envelop her protectively in my cape, where I always shielded her from being hurt and in pain!
I wish I could have been there to catch her sagging body when Mars took the blow meant for her, to muffle her agonised screams and cover her wide, tearful blues, to have mended her broken heart when she was forced to watch her family die.
I wish I could lock her away in warmth and comfort, so she'll never be exposed to pain again.
I wish I could tell her just one last time just how brave she is, how meaningless my life would be without her, how much I love her.
I wish I could die for her all over again, if it would spare her such horrors, if she would smile again.
But most of all, I wish these words were not so empty and powerless, that they could somehow reach her, so she would understand I haven't abandoned her.
So she would not feel rejected, unimportant and betrayed by the life she so desperately fights to create.
I wish I could have seen her dance her days away.
I wish I had never seen her break like she did on that day.
I wish she'd dance graceful steps into the loving life that was always meant for her, and which she so rightly deserves, rewarded for all she has done - I wish she could dance, I wish she could dance.
Roses be wilted here.