pull out the knife,
from where you slid it in my side.
Let the blood,
rich and rosy,
drench your hands,
a reminder, a memento
to the times we passed
untainted, warm in the sun.
Avert your eyes,
from my prostrate pain,
out of sight,
you can raise your head,
pretending the role you played
didn’t bring me down.

Life has seasons
And You're  the coldness of the winter,
The beauty of the spring ,
The hotness of the summer,
and The bluster of the autumn.

You are like a deep breath
After spending years gasping for air
You are the brightest of days
After weathering months of storms
You are peace after a seemingly never ending war

But you’re not the air I breathe
I can do that on my own
But how nice is it to know that your breath can be synonymous with my own
To know this is ours to share