Life

She stood on the hillside, in a tanktop despite the cold- but by now she was too numb to feel it. Her pale face peered into that of the moon, and both were enchantingly beautiful.
"'Tis better to have loved and lost..." she said to herself, the breathtaking moon illuminating a single tear streak. The wind blew her hair around her face making her look like an earth-bound angel, and for a brief second, one could almost make out intangible wings, "but how can you lose what you never had?"
She spoke of the boy who betrayed her, the boy who didn't notice her, and the boy who she couldn't love-- each one of them another person.
Erik, the rogue who tried to cheat her. John, who didn't realize she existed. Ben, who she could never have affection for in return. All but Ben were arrogant, narsissistic, proud. All but Ben had destroyed her. Why then could she not love Ben? Why did she allow for her own destruction?
Was it the beauty of the destructive force? John-- a mustang, a tornado; enchanting and devastating all the same? Erik, with the eloquence of a politician and the sweet talk of a parakeet?
Was it the gossamer thread of hope that she would someday rest in someone's arms and feel cared for? That was all she ever wanted.
Critique, please?