Saviour of Sorts

A room full of mirrors,
Each shows a different view.
Walking to the center of space,
Full circles and I lose my way.


I see a figure but no shape.
More like a circle with a crooked base.
Yours to spin or kill with haste.


I watch you glare at the shattered glass,
Eyes dripping with red joy.
A piece of me, right off the heart,
You hold out for me to grab.
Feel it, you say.
Then throw it right at my face.


Soaked in the color of your soul,
I reach out for the bleakest tide of red.
I look at you, as if, for the grasp of  hope.
Musing in the last hours of confused pride and pain.


I see a little yellow and then brighter it gets.
The halo of your darkness merging with my breathe.
You whisper the song of a holy hope ,
of angels that save the drowning shore,
and murmur softly right into my soul-
The song that ends with "There you go!"


I bask and bask in a painful glow,
of  half your smile and what the other half could hold, 
while i burn to ashes by the candle of your soul.