I thought I should write a happy poem
But I only write at night.
The ink of blood dripping from my heart
becomes thin and transparent in the light.

So if you want me to be honest:
The thought of you fills me with words
yet renders me speechless
to the point where writing hurts.

In your arms I found the open ocean;
Tides, waves, my serene sea,
The most pleasant feeling of a morning breeze.
In your eyes the best night skies;
A Rhythm bright enough to leave the sun behind
and wake up the night in just a heartbeat.
My heartbeats.
Cracked and Irregular by your every move.
In your fingers untold mysteries;
tangled within my own in secrets with the promises of never letting go.
In your hair my favorite melody;
Loud, and ruthless music for my deaf ears:
A Symphony only I can hear.
In your lips my muse;
Better than Erato and Calliope combined,
Carelessly whispering verses
To last me the entire day,
Softer than the birth of Roses.
My Roses.
For they are just for me,
Sprouting from your lips, and blossoming with my touch.
Our touch.
*In you I found poetry.
With verses resting at your lips,
My muse

For I'm just a sigh and deep breath
From other's pain,
The beginning of a new day,
And the hope that makes
a scream from  agonizing pain
stand out.

It hurts to be compared
For she has you by her side,
And while I was never able to forget you,
**I got used to missing you

Even though he arrives when I'm moving on
And leaves when I get closer.

Even though we love in pauses
And hate in between them.

Even though he laughs with me
And more often at me.

Even though he protects me from everyone else
And only he can hurt me.

Even though he can stop the tears from flowing
And he has been the one to place them there.

Even after all that,*
I'll still end up choosing him.*
Always