At times she felt crazed, like a lost wanderer traveling a path that led her anywhere but home.

He loved her because she was just as lost as him. Most search for a compass to lead them home, he ached for a like wanderer to travel his broken path.

She dreamt of being saved, but even she knew no northern light, no guided path could lead her home. She was a wanderer and her gypsy heart could never be tamed.

And in the end I came to realize that I was just as broken as all of them. All the people I tried tirelessly to put back together again, was nothing more than a selfish pursuit to somehow make myself feel whole again.

She searched for his face in crowds where he'd never be, in places that he'd never seen. In her mind he was everywhere haunting her. Her emptiness was beyond heartache, it was a well played tragedy.

She teetered between stillness and complete madness. There was no grey, there was no black and white; she was a fierce shade of magenta.