She had to make a decision, and she chose to stay with you forever. She promised to remain faithful and not to succumb to temptation ever. She reaffirmed her love with a feeling gesture that would come to mean nothing at all in the end. Delilah gave you all her love, and you gave her everything in return, but it would not be enough. She refused temptation, and that is when the bond was broken. As soon as she placed that mantle of trust upon her own shoulders, she turned to dust in your embrace. You lost her through no fault of your own, just a futile battle against the inevitable.
Had you kept her things may have been different, but not as you’d imagine. Once she succumbed to temptation, you would know a different Delilah. A monster. Her embrace would make you suffocate, and your skin writhe. Pleasantries start arguments, and love leads to war. So it must have been written, or else it could not be. There is nothing you can do now. You must leave. It is too late. The Delilah you knew before is gone forever. Now you must suffer for what you have done, for what she did. You can’t escape the end, because it was always meant to be.
You will always be reminded of what happened, with no recompense for your love. It cannot be erased, it cannot be undone. Mistakes made are lessons learned, and thus can never be replaced by perfection lest you must be taught everything anew. Everything you gave her will sting again for eternity. And now all you can do is fight to make things right once more. Yet you shall never find the justice you seek. She loved you and you so much her. But now you must fight with the emptiness. It drains your energy and disrupts every comfort with pain. But you must continue to fight.
But don’t allow a certainly uncertain future dissuade you now, for the feelings you will receive in prolonged moments of forever will either subside or subsist at the whim of random memories. These are the chances of remembrance for which you strive. Allow your butterfly heart free to flutter and chance upon delights yet unknown. And should they be forgotten, you’ll be able to accept that they were once fleeting memories. Live for the day, the hour, the minute, every second you would never trade for anyone, for any place, any idea of any thing that may be valued.
Later, you will regret, and swear that never should it have been so. But it was, and should you honestly deceive your former selves in each of those moments in time, you shall know it for false that your former selves revealed untruths. But am I not a changed man? You’ll ask yourself. That former self is no longer the latter I am. He shall be forgiven his sins, but I am unable to forgive one who is not me but may once have been. For it is I who now bear the burden, and regret is mine to hoard, to keep, to allow to fester and rot apart my insides until something bursts, something changes, and everything can, for once and for all, let go, be forgotten, released from the torment that mocks me so. It must be forgiven, yes, but it is not me who has the power to do so. No, that is the hest of a soul much more pure than my own wretched state of man.