What words can I carry when I meet you in the dark,
I have whispered so many nothing's to you under moonlight,
I know not the weight of the truth or the people that hold it,
Writing stories about you so that I don't have to live them out,
It all reminds me of a poem I read 7 years ago that left me empty,
I didn't know I could relate to these terrible, petty horrors,
I became a poet that loves nothing other than not being loved back,
I swear I used to be in pain long before I needed it to just to write.