Black ink against white paper,
You took the wrapper off your favorite flavor,
Eyes met mine and begged for a favor,
I resisted,
But you insisted,
That I,
Talked to you late at night,
Like the moon does with its favorite star,
You,
Shined brighter than the sun,
Reflected and spread like dust against mars,
I couldn't resist your cuteness,
So I made jokes to explain my rudeness,
And you laughed and forgot about the brokenness of our track
I took your heart and pinned it up with a tack,
I wrote words of meaning on your ventricles,
Until one day my pen pierced one of your valves,
It was my fault your blood spilled on the floor,
That familiar feeling of guilt came knocking on my door,
You took your heart,
Ran away to mend your wounds,
Treated me with silence until my loose paper was few,
The poems flew,
And most were for you,
My pen is out of ink and now my heart is out of room.