Wasn't she?

Wasnt she my sea of thoughts and wasnt she in my mind? Wasnt she the rebellion herself that not a fracture of myself could find peace? Oh wasnt her eye a sea I'd drown with just a glance and wasnt her words the bullets I wanted to shoot myself with. Wasnt she pretty like the devil and worst than God. What kind of feeling was that? Fernweh. The only clear emotion I felt each time she spoke.The feeling to run away,to be born again. Wasnt she a moment of victory in my mind when she laughed,or was she really how the war in me started? Was she my peace or was she the revolution that teared me apart? Was she the one i could call myself? A distant memory she is,how pitiful.How arrogant of me.How her form and shape are not memorys I have and neither is her voice.Neither is the warmth of her hug or even the slightest of her touch. Only her words.Her feelings.Her ache for war. Wasnt she beautiful like the rain or the perfect melody?Her silence a massive war gun.Her breath a relligion. Wasnt she the one i could call myself?