If you want the truth
I will tell you
As much of it I will let through
There are things I wouldn't even admit until I'm lying on my deathbed
But it's pretty irrelevant
I only need to admit it to myself
The only way I escape it is by denying it
But to tell you the truth
Denial is not an easy force of truce
It's a pretty hard thing to tussle with
I feel it in every breath I use
Forever can never be promised, cuteness

I feel like a foreigner
standing on a pier
waiting for word from a lover
across the blue water of tears.

How to pass your poetry test
with the silence between your teeth
and a red angered face
burnt like the Sun and
cold as the night
a small song leaves your lips
in spite of yourself.

You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.

Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. There are days when I can hear my bones straining under the weight of despair, this madness that erupts like an earthquake when I feel you lost. This heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until there are none. It is a mortal danger, perhaps not to life in a strict sense but mortal still, for I know very well my soul would harden and never be the same if I lose you.

But think not for a minute this is despair's babble, even in my seldom moments of calm and lucidness and peace I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than ever mine or someone else's. I want to deserve you, for I have to love you E, I have to love you. It matters not this wound that burns like two, it matters not that I search for you and I do not find you, even as the nights go by and I do not have you.