I asked a simple question

“Can I die for you?”

I received a long and hard stare back

“No.”

I thought about that answer for a long time with the goal of forgiving you. Forgiving you for not loving me, never loving me. Forgiving myself for letting my love grow too much. I wanted to die for you, so you could live. But love doesn’t work like that, I guessed.

“Why?”

His reply;

“I’m already dead.”

There's a little piece of you in me
and a little part of me in you

a part of me I miss and look for
a piece of you you think you've lost

when I find you with that part of me
and you see me with that piece of you

we'll approach each other cautiously
pulled together easily

by the part of me and piece of you

that will be, eventually
the piece that completes you
and the part that completes me.

it's not all about me
                                //      it's all because of you

His love was like a flashlight.
Her love is like a candle.

His love beamed,
And her love burned.

His love was like a flashlight.
False. Mechanic. Operated.

Her love is like a candle.
Dripping, Melting, Alive.

His love did not last.
Once the batteries died.

Her love burned to the end.
Sparks and embers burning bright crimson
long after the wax has melted away.

Her love whisps in smoke,
filling the entire room.

My lungs, my senses blocked.
A flame stings within my heart.