They call a certain part of the night,
When the darkest ink lays before dawn,
The Witching Hour.
And in every corner of this room,
I hear echoes of my whispers to you.
Phantom limbs intertwine,
As if it were November
And like clockwork,
You'd hush my words
With sad lips
Knowing I'd be left here in June.
And when I feel the weight of your chest
Heaving with lavender,
Just know I'm still strong
In this Bewitching Hour.

And when the ink of the night
Locks your eyes shut,
Remember the light
For you are not done.

Your eyes laugh
     as loud as
           Your love,
                                                           ­        So I can't
                                                           ­              hear anything
                                                        ­                        else.
                                   ­                                                                 ­ I'm deaf.

Your whispers overcome
     screaming colours, slogans, labels.
                                                         ­             
                                                   ­                 Worthless, hopeless,
                                                       ­                   impossible, hurting,
                                                        ­                        fallen, broken.

"Courage, dear heart",
       You only ever expected me.

                                    

                    ­                Everything beautiful I ever saw,
                               *was preparation for the beauty of You.

Not once but twice, have I broken your heart,
With each time, a little more I regret playing a part.
I messed up last night, but fixed it today,
Now I've messed up again with nothing to say.

You can't forgive me, but I dont want your leave,
Perhaps it's true we wear our hearts on our sleeve.
Man I'm a ***** up, I hate myself now,
I'd do anything to fix this, but I can't think of how.

We're not better off gone, that is a fact,
Having messed up twice, leaves me sick to my tract.
I am this monster that I see in me,
Perhaps It's better if I leave you to be....

It's 5:30 in the morning
and the very memory of You
lingers
as the most bittersweet of aftertastes.

I'm quivering,
and this is what it feels like
to be *brimming with poetry;
to have only just woken up,
in restlessness,
full
of
words.

And I'm writing about You,
because I spend every sleeping hour
searching for You in That world,
and by the stars  I will find You.
I will always find you.

For when you disappeared
I lost a part of me that made me
more than whole;
You gave me happiness,
even as my vision grew bleak,
You have given me Love
in all its beauty
with each gentle caress
and long-missed embrace.

I confess;
I Love too deeply.
And You have given me
so much to cherish
that being in a world
without You in it
is unthinkable,
unbearable,
unfathomable;
Even emptier than before.

Your Love is bright as ever, even in the shadows~

You are beautiful.
And You will always be beautiful
even when your hair's white
and in a mess,
even when we're older and been through so much,
I will take one look at You
and let you know every single time
that I Love You
and that you really do mean a lot me.

My Love,
I miss you so;
I want you back in my arms.