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you told me you love me so much it hurts.
but why,
why does it hurt?
it doesn't hurt me
to love you.
is my love not real?
but then you told me it only hurts when we're apart,
because a part of you is missing.

and now i realize
i feel the same way when i'm apart from you
so i guess what i'm trying to say
is i love you so much it hurts too.

but only in a painfully beautiful way
that reminds me of just how much
i really do love you.

-n.h.

(I got married so from now own, I'm signing with -n.h. instead of -n.a.)
Kind of wrote this poem in like less than 5 minutes. So don't judge. But I felt like posting it... The actual LOVE part of your relationship shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't drain you or destroy you or overwhelm you in a negative way. At least, that's my opinion. I think it should be quite the opposite. But the pain you feel when you're apart from the person you love? That's a different story... and I think that it's good. I mean, if you're completely dependent upon the other person for your happiness, that's probably an issue. But I think you know what I mean. Okay. I'll shut up now. :)
 Sep 2015 Kayla Ross
Max Eastman
YOU came with your small tapering flame of passion
Thinly burning like a nun's desire,
Your eyes in slim and half-expectant fashion
Faintly painting what your veins require
With little pallid pyramids of fire.

So very small and unfulfilled you sat,
Building a little talk to keep you there,
Your face and body pointed like a cat,
Your legs not reaching down from any chair,
Your thoughts not really reaching anywhere;

So dumb and tiny--yet Love guessed your mood,
And pressed his phial in its fervent bed,
And poured his thrilling philtre in my blood,
And all his lustre on your body shed,
And hot enamel on the words you said;

Your littleness became a monstrous thing,
A rank retort, a hot and waiting vat,
Your eyes green-copper like a snake in spring,
And *****-bold your laying off your hat,
And fell your purpose like a hungry cat;

The dark fell on us through our narrowed eyes,
The heat lashed up around us from the floor,
Encrimsoning the lips of our surprise
To sway like music, and like burning pour
Across the truth that parted us before.

— The End —