My grandmother always told me to protect love, to chase it.

My grandfather told me to stay away from love, that it never ends well.

As I lay up at 4:44 a.m I don't know who was right.
I cherish the past.
But the present stings.

Why isn't the sky crying?
When the most beautiful soul has reached up to meet it?
Shouldn't such an embrace bring tears?
Or sunshine?
Why now, is all black and quiet?
Traffic continues when my heart has stopped.
The sky holds the love of my heart
That I never could.
And I'm crying,
And the sky is quiet.
I just hope the sky knows how lucky it is.
And I hope my love, my darling, can see me from somewhere
And know how much I love him still.

Why do I think of the best poem ideas
When I can't write them down?