What was it that he left behind for her?
An easy life ahead?
Or probably beautiful memories of their moments together?
Alas! He would have left her a garden full of beauty and dreams.
Or maybe, just maybe, the world where his fortress was built.
He left for her not even words to soothe her soul,
It’s just me,
I am the legacy he left behind for her,
I am what reminded her constantly of everything she doesn’t hold,
But reminded her more of what she now owned,
A broken marriage,
Battles to survive in this barbarous world,
Words that were only uttered to catcall,
A burden as they said, of two lives now,
A smudge of the relationships and the duties she failed.
She was an angel who survived in hell,
The one who hadn’t become what was offered back to her.
A legacy is the most precious thing, isn’t it?
That is what I became for her.
The only family to her,
The only innocence left in the world that’s brutal
She made me this well filled with her love,
She made me everything that is deemed to be precious.
Made me her laugh,
Made me her tear,
Made me her bedtime stories,
Made me her pillow to cry on,
She gave me the most special gift,
For she made me hers.