Why write about love when you are still
Healing from
It’s attrocities
Why write about love when you are still
Hurting from the abuse
Why write about love when you are still
Alive
For romantic love makes
Our heart exsanguinate*


* it a medical team for bleed out

In youth's tender grasp, we danced, carefree,
Unaware of the wounds, the silent plea.
Hearts wounded, yet hoping to be set free,
Bound by a love that was never meant to be.

Too blind, too obstinate, we held on tight,
One spoke in hurt, the other in spite.
A painful dance, through day and night,
Yet one chose to stay, despite the fight.

Now, in the autumn of days long gone,
The scars remain, a lingering dawn.
Time's cruel hand, it marches on,
Leaving a love once bright, now drawn.

To understand the wounds, it took too long,
A love so right, yet gone so wrong.
Echoes of pain, a siren's song,
In the symphony of a love that's gone.

I hate
The stabbing feeling
At my food and water’s gate
Into my body.
Hate dealing
With the bacteria in me
When their arrows
Are pointed in that narrow,
Singular spot
When anything cold or hot
Just hurts. Please
Leave me alone; no lease
Was signed before
You declared war
On the space
That wasn’t yours
In the first place.

"it was never about love."
those were your last words
before walking out of the same door
that i swore to keep closed ever since.
it was never about wanting more,
nor was it about not getting enough from me,
but i somehow still think it's my fault.
in the end, what difference would it make
if there was someone else to take the blame?
as you managed to put into words so well,
we were merely two people, stuck together,
pretending to be a pair,
and now that's all i can think about.
it was never about love.