I stand on the rocky ground between heaven and hell.
My mother once told me that you can't have it all,
but she never met you with your sweet lips and soft eyes.
I loved you deeply,
fully,
wholly.
I loved you more than I loved my own consciousness.

Somone once told me that falling in love
felt a lot being set on fire.
Watching as you disappeared in front of your own eyes,
dwindling down to ashes,
love felt a lot like being ablaze.

You were my inferno.
You were reckless and you burned bright enough to blind me,
but you also warmed me from the inside out.
Looking back,
I can't tell where you stopped warming me,
and began burning me.
I never noticed my fingertips turning to ash
and my heart hardening from your touch.
But I needed you.
I needed warmth, even if I knew from the beginning
that you'd be my demise.
I would always choose the most lethal weapon.
You were no exception.

Your love was fire,
it left me with scattered fragments of my former self.
And it's tragic that I'll always need someone to piece me back together
so that I can feel whole again.
When I loved you,
I watched everything fade around me,
until you were the only one left in my universe.
So when you left,
I felt this desolation that swallowed me from the inside.
Love is a paper boat that sinks,
and I am a sailor that never learnt how to swim.