My love is vengeance that's never free.

We struggle against the pain, the hate, against the ebb and flow of madness which envelops us at every step. We push on against the flood of negativity.. resisting the urge to let go as our hearts and minds become weakened, battered mercilessly by the waves crashing down.. resisting the urge to victimize ourselves, to take the easy way out, to surrender what little truth and beauty we hold dear. 
Tonight I mourn the loss of those with whom I once walked, whose hand I clutched as we together stood strong against the tides, until I watched them become weak, overcome by hatred and pain, and then slip away... Here I stand, in the wake of the fragments of beauty abandoned, and wish dearly to touch your face once more. 

His shadowed eyes descended upon her, scrutinizing her cold, pale face. Sauntering toward her, he jeered.
"When did life lose the magic?"
Solemn eyes blinked, distant, as if coming out of deep thought, then focused on him, taking in his sarcastic smirk. A ghost of a smile, a remnant perhaps of another time, touched her own lips, then vanished.
"Life didn't lose the magic. We're just looking in the wrong place."

When you measure time in centuries, not days, the slow procession of each moment becomes unbearable.