I'm tilted and insist that you know I am grateful now here we
are-
an alliance. Let's see ourselves onwards, be borne by our
fondness-in accord, be our love for the colloquy.

Spry, exuberant. We are free spirits draining oceans of ink, bathing in rivers of lies to find the truth while saturated by pride.
We are propelled to propinquity, as we seek for a better prospect while drowning in propensity.

Our hearts bleed onto the paper,
wanting more love of passion
to spill out endlessly,
so others can relate
to share this burning fire
Deep within our souls.
we seek endlessly for acceptance and relatability,
with someone who we can feel
safe to share these wonderful feelings,
feelings of want from our vulnerable hearts.

In sharing our vulnerable hearts,
I becomes We
the divine flame burns brightly, guiding lonely souls
to meet heart to heart on this happy road of destiny
a stream of gratitude flows from our bloods, and we discover that we write to connect
to the divine source that empties us and fills us.

When I say I love you I'm not actually saying I love you
I'm saying the sky above you is always falling unless you're around
I mean the ground is bound by the steps that you walk
So excuse me if it makes you uncomfortable that I'm tiptoeing around you
I found you at your lowest place, anchored myself down so that I could take your space
And now? I'm up at 2 in the morning, writing poetry, and reminiscing on thing that don't evenatter to you anymore
Tearing up floorboards in search of pictures that aren't there
Breaking up my days until I can't remember what reality is
When the earth quakes and I'm still clinging to your ghost that's as close as I get to feeling something

When I say I hate you, I'm not actually saying I hate you
I'm saying that the sky has already fallen, and the floorboards are broken and splintered
Without even a picture to comfort a heart that weighse down
Always hoping that you're coming back for the tattered pieces that you stepped in and left on your way out the door.

You have no idea, do you? You don't realize that every time you tell me you love me is another dig into my own grave. And every time I remember that you don't is another pinprick that never heals. I've got scars on my back from the last time you kissed me and there are bruises on my arm from when you last looked me in the eye. I miss you so much that I feel like every thought of you constricts my chest and makes it hard to breathe. All I ever wanted was to have your hand in mind and feel like for once I'd never have to be so alone every time I walk past another tree.

I remember the last time you made me smile. You were lying on my lap the day before you had to fly off and you were listening to me talk about the other people I had known from my journey then to now. I was playing with your hair and I remember thinking that there was nowhere else I'd rather be and no one else I'd rather be with.  I remember thinking that maybe I could finally set my roots and follow one path to one place, but you took that away from me.

In the same day, you put a stake through my heart when you disappeared and said nothing, no call, no whisper about leaving so I started walking back home but waited at the end of the road for an hour to see if you would follow. You didn't. Love didn't.

I was already in love with you then. And it hurt to realize you didn't really care all that much to make sure I got home safe.

We ended things. Or at least I did. You argued that even if you were in the middle of a vast ocean and I was on the mainland, our love could've traveled distances and I reminded you that there was no love here and that you were the one who told me without saying a word that you held no love for me but expected me to love you in places beyond our reaches of the galaxy.

But my hands could only stretch so far, and my heart could only take so much before the pain of being with you and without you all at once began to dance on my skin like folk songs around a bonfire.

I know my heart and I know that it believes in the worlds away and it holds so strongly it can hardly take the pain but keeps pumping anyway. But for once, the blood pumping in my veins understand that it's alright. It's alright to let go of love and it's alright to let go of you. My eyes understand it's okay to weep and that my lungs breathe better without tears choking it.

My hands will shake and be taken over by tremors but they'll know that you were never love and love would never again be you.