If there is only ever good things spoken in love
Then it would surely be an artifice
For they say a rose by any other name is just as sweet
But is it truly
Can one have admitted to owning love when not been bitten
Poisoned and soiled by the choking sweetness
Like the sharp edge reflex dripping down the back of throat
Stilling the beat of the heart
With its parasitic rhythm

No love isn't always sweet
But bitter, hot, and sour
Love is beyond the intention of desire and the painted smiles on chocolate faces
The glass eyed terror textured with the limitation of another cheap year
Disgraced by the swelling tenor of requested feeling
It is ***** and it disgraces all the noble intentions from the romantic heart
Boiling the fever and yearning the selfish sin
But that passion and fury is only the start

I sometime wake and wonder
"What even is my life right now?"

There is a point after the emotion has run its course
When hope sadness regret loss and joy have all left and your stuck with the mess
When you've read the words over and under and still arent sure what to say
Should you say
Could you say anything at all
The point in the road where all options are a risk
Like the heart has been left out of the sun so long it flinches at the thought of light
Where it only took one straw a single grain of rice to tip the balance of what feels right.

I want reach out but words stick
Glueing to the throat so thick i choke
Cough and fail again
What do I say
What do I do
I've tried so hard to forget
But my eyes are not so blinded by love
Not so clouded with desperation
Fighting to hold on
Failing to show you what could be
If you had but let go
Stopped kicking and screaming dragging your nails across the walls
Of sanity
Def to the what I felt
What actions caused

But the truth
I'm not sure you want
To feel as I have felt
The zenith of my accumulation what I learned from the outside in
Would most likely do you no good
Would hurt you and hurt s me to feel again
For I am removed from it but lost to it

I let you into where others do not go
Not my mother
No not even the other
You know as suridly as I know you will read this
Know this
And burn as I have burned at the realization
You were there in the places that none could see
Saw the raw integrity of all that I am
And you ripped them
Tore it from the socket those fragile things of beauty
Sullied them like they were not worth the delicate wonder they had been
Shining a rainbow gossimer of good humanity the raw feirce nature of what love should be
Nieave as they were meant
Forgiving and piercing they had lament



They but flutter a sad representation
A jaded remorse they have become wishing to be the butterfly that it once was.

Like a flower in dew folded up from  suns warming view
The inner self lies dormant
Waiting for love to warm it
To feed the fragile flame
With all its magnificence it does grow
To feed the lonely soul
It is a ray of blinding light soft and harsh in its might
But gently not to forceful it brings
The stuborn flower preen

Two modes become one being
In the ever twilight they emerge
Rising from the stillness to breathe forth light
Dark
Objects and ruin
Neither one to seperate though at constant battle they will be
Forging the heavens and the earth
With persons in between