Red ink, or in blood? ;

Flowers
I have bought flowers for the ceremony, it is the end is it not?
Yet the doubting feeling in my heart knows it could not be. Or is it just my prophesy?
It is time to go. I grab a small piece of white card before I reach the door – I know somehow, it will be written.

Roses
They're my favorite, but not hers. Lilies were her forte. Lying in the wind was was something she would not call desperation. But in my eyes I saw her fear.
Panic. Hatred. Fear.
Holding on to the last glimmer of hope, she grasped at it like no tomorrow.

She hated me. But she hated herself much more.
For I was, but a mere wolf to her crying – it is her, not me, that deserved this.

Insanity
But what it brought me, showed me a battle within myself. A mirror, most certainly, a reflection of my inner self.
The sight of her made me obsessed with ridding this odd tyranny. Yes indeed, it was fear of myself. Her actions showed me what I held deep within, desperate to kill it, I fought the battle, struck knife into her cries and won.

But the battle is never won. Somehow I know she would return. Or was it me, just fighting myself? If that is true, no return would be found, for I am not one but two.

Obsession
Two months have passed, yet I find myself longing for the past. Preparing for a war that is long over. No, one that has never begun. I was not in the equation, never was, never will be. Months before I was searching, uncovering data everywhere I looked. Piecing the puzzle I was never to complete. Yet, I yearned for the answers it gave, the reasons it once beheld. It is something I cannot rid myself of, once revealed, I was scarred forever.

The End
The end was never the end. In fact, the end ended years ago, but somehow she ceased to remember it. Maybe denial would be more befitting.

"Happy Birthday, child. Although you were before me." – in red ink, or in blood?

The writing was crimson red.
As I lay down the roses at her doorstep, the smell of lilies greeted me awkwardly. For one might not have guessed, it could have been curiosity, but the lilies killed the cat.