My Sweet Milay

My beginning has finally arrived
I've been awakened by a siren, singing her love for me
The beginning of my wonderfully, perfect, life has finally opened itself unto me
I've found this lovely lady, her name is Milay
She looks me in the eyes when I'm speaking my mind
She replies with words of accuracy and meaning, and they all make sense to me
I ask her what she wants to do, and she answers with the same question
I tell her stories, she laughs or gasps whenever needed
I tell her jokes and she laughs whole-heartedly, without a single clue of transparency
She looks me in the eyes
We smile to each other between constantly agreeable conversations
My issues with reality, with living, and life; she understands them completely
I think I love this person, I think this person loves me
My angel, Milay
She's unquestionably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, in my mind and through my eyes

To her I am a wretch
I am a sad and riddled boy who could not love such a woman
She is my goddess and she's enthroned on a golden altar that she's built herself
Not a slave, servant, or holy disciple will follow her into darkness
No fool more foolish than I
I've trusted this con artist with my wallet and watch
To her, I am pitiful
I am hopeful and wishing
She knows she is too good, she knows she deserves better
She is beautiful, open, and interesting
But she's a god damned harlot
She is the victim of this viciously scattered mess of emotions
She tells me that she's never loved me, that I'm not her type
I'm angered, but pleased
A delusional duality of emotions enslave my painful expressions
I am angered at the thought of someone less than I, being the one she wants
I am pleased by the doom that will spawn itself unto her, by her own accord
I am angered that she couldn't see what I had to offer
I am pleased that I knew before it was way too late
I am angered that she lives with such delusions of grandeur
I am pleased, that my own delusions, are what keep me safe from the invisible, flying, demons of others
She will drown in despair
There will be no hope for her
Not a single wave of strength or beauty will grace her wrinkled face after she's lived her long and miserable chain of days that ties itself together with cigarettes that shrivel her lungs into tiny prunes of muscles.
I will be in the grace of God while she burns beneath me in the righteous flame
I will stand, indignant, on the cliff side, watching the sea of the tormented sway with the volcanic winds of plague
My dear, sweet, Milay
You're a thousand times more appealing to my eye, now that you're where you belong.
Burn, my sweet angel. Take residence in the furnace that warms you to the core, through all your sickly skin.