Have you met hurt?
Have you met pain?
I'm sure you have.
I've been in love with them,
yes at the same time.
They compliment each other
and make up what's left of me.

Hurt.
Pain.

So, you see, before you
I've only loved these two.
And they've loved me too.

My hurt.
My pain.

I trust these two.
I tried to find them in you.

I know you're hurt.
I know you're pain.
I know they compliment you,
but you make the most of me.

I trust these two..
and I'm in love with you too.

Would you accept all the dark parts?
That I may never be all yours?
Never be all here, with you?
Knowing that some shreds of me are still lingering with those who abandoned me?
Would you still choose to stay?
To love what's left of me?

My poetry isn't just good words which rhyme well,
Isn't about stories to simply tell,
It's the tears which I never shed,
Everything that could never be said,
The feelings which I don't want to take to bed.

I look for the smallest details
The silliest most blurry memories
Even pain sometimes helps to remember what we used to have.
Anything to feel the way I used to feel.

Down the memory lane of my forgetful mind,
I have forgotten almost all,
But you;
You are still a part of,
Countless flashbacks, that:
Bring tears to my eyes,
A smile to my lips,
And love to my soul.

Countless times,
I have tried,
To let go of you...
But you always hold on my to mind,
As if without each other,
We would remain incomplete.

Countless are the ways,
By which I have managed to,
Hate you hard,
And end up,
Loving you harder;
As if,
It’s easier for my being,
To die countless deaths for loving you,
Than to, without a thought of you,
Spend countless eternities.

Be my morning sunshine,
My goodnight kiss.
Be my favorite love song, always on repeat.

Be my first thought, and my last one.
My laughter, my tears.
The one I'll give the last slice of pizza and the last bite of my cookie.

The reason I write,
The words to my sentences.

Let your name be melody to my ears.