My flower, my beloved

We spoke of the betrayal she suffered and her heart withered before me. Her normally smiling eyes now empty and cold. I have not seen her look so drained. Even in heartbreak she is calm.

And I felt the stirrings of anger within me on her behalf. No one should be allowed to wound my flower so.

On another note, my dearest love is quite happy. I bask in her happiness and wish this warmth will linger.

I am of two hearts then. Happy for my beloved and enraged for my flower. I am the bystander of their withering and blooming hearts. I am the one in waiting, hoping to be the balm that ease their pain or the confidant to share their joys.