Don't you dare tell her
that you ever loved her
Don't you dare teach her
that that is what love looks like

How dare you teach her
to feel so small
How dare you teach her
to swallow her words

How dare you look at her bruises
and call them friendly reminders
How dare you teach her
that love can be violent

How dare you hold her heart
like it was made of thorns
How dare you leave her
like she was the poison

How dare you treat her
like she did not spend her nights
******* the venom
out of your veins

How dare you speak of her like dust
when she was the only one bold enough to love you.

With her "free"
does that mean that there won't be an ""us"" anymore?

Will holding your frail warmth to my chest become hollow, the worst kind of acting, with monotone lines and lifeless movement?

I am willing to act, I will be what is required of me even if my heart twists and squeezes in those rare moments when my brain is resting.

Because it always goes back to you.

....

There is the chance that through her, you'll understand.

And I'm not asking you to change because you won't, not for me.

Just have mercy on me, be kind. I don't deserve it but if you are who I hope you are, who I know you CAN be...
please have mercy on something that is already so, so broken.

I met a boy today,
at the end of the road.
A young one, somewhere between 9 or 10.
He looked at me with his eyes on the ground.
"Where can I find Love?" He questioned.

I did not answer him.
Because I could not.
In the library, I go daily
I find books of genres
one such is 'love'.

But the books are not different than 'Horror'.
The 'horror' covers are black,
absorbing everything I tell,
The "love' covers are white,
reflecting everything I hear.

I went back with a dictionary
and a book of all the love letters
that were never written.

I saw him again
at the end of the road.
This time he looked away from me
while looking into my eyes.

I answered him,
because I thought I could.
'In the petals of red roses,
in the knelt proposes,
in the thumbed love letters.
in the woollen sweaters.
in the candlelight dinner
in the lines that win her
in the dark sunsets
in Romeo and Juliet.
in the surprise gifts
in the heartbeat that lifts,
You, can find love.'

I went home proud,
for I knew, he will find love now.

Eternities and forevers later,
I met a man today,
at the beginning of the road.
An old one, somewhere between 90 or 100.
He looked at me with his eyes staring inside mine.

'In the thorns that *****,
in the words that trick,
in the letters never sent
in the people who went
in the handmade food,
in the sceneries you never viewed
in the lost sunrise
in her eyes and lies
in the gift wrappers never thrown,
in the hearts that have become stone.
I, found love', he finally replied.

I went home proud,
for I knew he found love now.

I came here tonight
thinking I could make something change,
then I spent hours on the floor,
reading letters and feeling deranged.

I think you miss the old me,
I think you have a diastase for the new.
I just want you to hold me,
when I'm tired and feeling blue.