Misguided Comfort

Sometimes it is hard figuring out whether you continue to hold on or walk away.
At the same time, the truth is inevitable; one has changed.
The same visions and hopes and dreams that had matched up perfectly have now twisted and formed this ugly coil of a statue, and it has made its place in the very same spot that a loving goddess and stoic god once held each other through the rapid firestorms and underneath thunderous skies.

I think I could scream and curse in the middle of a bustling courtyard and no one would hear me.
I wake every day, a null ache traveling down the left side of my torso.
It was never supposed to be there.
That was promised to me.
Yet, I guess, promises are one thing that cannot be kept when coming from another person.
But I was molded to believe.
I did not land in that radiant atmosphere on my own.
I did not ask to be there, but I was guided there by an angel cloaked in a beautiful skin, but deceitful.

Now, it is only me.
I am left to gather the pieces of myself through teary and brave eyes.
I am left to erase my beliefs and go back to the start.