I love you.
Three words never caused so much pain.
Or joy. Yes, there was joy in them once,
But the two young, stupid people who said them are gone.
They are torn apart,
Stripped of their clothes,
And thrown in a cell with bars made of air,
The air in their lungs when they said those words,
I love you.
They would revel in each other,
Hold each other close.
Each was addicted to the soul of the other,
Without a thought to the withdrawal,
And that's where the headaches start.
I love you.
And this isn't a poem, it's a letter for you,
I pushed you away to push me into hell,
because that's what I was used to.
I'd adapted to fire, demons and sin,
and you are an angel.
I was afraid of your light, and of your grace,
because you are the reason I look on my face,
In mirror's and can't bring myself to say:
I love you.
I remember. I remember the curses and cookie dough,
I remember the blanket we dyed red with our blood,
I remember a beauty, a beast, and a princess bride,
I remember these things despite myself because,
I love you.
And so, if you read this, and I hope that you do,
Just know deep inside I am waiting for you,
Behind the stairs, or the old construction yard.
Oh Sophie, oh Sophie,
I love you.