I'm not guilt-tripping you
I'm just telling you the truth of what I think
That it will be better for you
If I think I should leave.

I can't find love, I'm terrible at that
It brings me to places where the way out
Is narrow that I have to cut a piece of me
To get through, scathed but free (I think).

But when love finds me
I panic.
Some kind of beauty I just can't take in.
Some kind of gift I don't deserve to receive.

Love can give in all its capacity
But when I can't reach that level of reciprocity
I'm afraid I might hurt love
And love would leave, scathed but free.

It'd be better for love to leave soon
Before I give love reason
To hurt, to be numb,
To cut a piece of itself to get through.

You know those talented Poets,
the ones that perform vanishing acts
Just like a ghost

Wonder why those poets
up and left HP?
Did they find a place better?
Did they find a place more
lovely?

Perhaps they lost their muse,
their pen, their flow
Or perhaps they await for spring
when beautiful things begin
to grow

Well anyway, I just wish to say
I miss those talented poets
Whose every word turns into
glittering gold