The picture of perfection,
is what the two of you seemed to be.
That cosmic kind of connection,
that is generally so hard to find in life.
As he soon became your husband,
and you became his wife.
Life seemed to be so perfect,
through your eyes.
I guess in your case,
love really is blind.
The honeymoon.
The flowers.
The telephone calls just because.
The grand and thoughtful expressions,
just to show the extent of his love.
Then gradually the disagreements came,
and one day before you knew,
the loving eyes you saw him through,
were bruised, bloody, black, and blue.
No one you would ever confide in,
trying to see it through.
As things only escalated,
and continually got worse.
Leading up to that dreadful night,
Which began with an arguement,
that led up to an enormous fight,
and the love you saw so blindly,
tradgically took your life.
It pains my heart and boggles my mind,
but I guess in your case,
love really was blind.
