Villains

He shouldn't have been a villain. That was never the plan.

He was supposed to be the knight, the fairytale, my neoplatonic other half, the Eros to my Aphrodite. Hercules. Sampson. The light to where I was dark. The answer to all my god damn questions.

And he was, for a time.  We were selfish in our all consuming, magical, centuries-old Love. That is, until our meshed dreams began to unravel. We looked at each other and realized we had misread our pounding hearts and dizzy minds. He changed, his light eyes going dark, his half smile a grimace, his words poison to my dying heart.

 And I, enraged and hateful, broke down my statues of the gods with sledgehammers and stories. Practically shouted his infidelities and lies to anyone who would listen, cried until rivers flooded and my very own light eyes went dark, my smile cracked and broken.

Which makes me wonder: Maybe, in the stories I spun and the enlarged, bloated truths I spoke-- I created a Villain.  Maybe in my attempt to destroy him in vindication for my battle wounds, I became the Villain.