It's fascinating. No matter how much harder she got, she only felt more hollow. She went from soft inside to whistling at all of her hinges. She became armor plating, padding and protecting those she cared for. She became a bulwark for the causes she believed in. She didn't even bleed anymore; ideas, after all, are immortal. Heroes never die. Justice lives on. Right?
She tossed out all of her weaknesses. Her heart was the first to go.
So instead, I fulfilled her. Where she went abstract, I slipped inside of her with an unrelenting physicality. Where she dreamed, I wanted. Where she fought, I struggled and survived. Where she hopes? I reached. She will always be my armor, but I will always be just a man.
I tossed out all of my high ideals. Why would I need them?
I had her.
Writing prompt of the hour: contradiction
Short and not-very-sweet, but it's been a long-ass day.