I am your poet --
I write your name on my heart
and our memories on my pages.

I write about my doubts,
my maybe's, what if's
and whereabouts
of you; and only you.

I write about my mistakes and yours --
our past, present, supposed future;
and how I love you the most.

I write about our debates --
the shouting and crying like
a wildfire sprawled across the bed.

I write about our first date --
when we dress up so nicely
and danced all night.

I write about our first kiss --
the push and pull of our lips;
and the warmth of our breathing.

I write about the way we talk --
the sweetest and most painful sound
uttered against the wind by the heart.

I write about your heartbeat --
the way it speaks to me,
and how it says my name joyfully.

I write about your face, your body,
the sound, noise, and joy;
and how we make love endlessly.

I am your poet --
I write about our unending love
that ends on my pages.

I am so consumed
By my own addiction
And I'm addicted
To loving you
But you're just in
The cloud of my thoughts
And I light up a smoke
Each time the clouds
Brim over my lungs
Each part of me
Is just so into you
And they tell memories
Of you as I burn them slowly
My tub turned instantly
To an ash tray containing
My remains and the
Thoughts of you

But hey--
I spared my heart for you
May you know how warm
It'll be to have me in

"Where are your hopes and dreams?"

"It's in my heart."* I replied.

"But it's broken!" they cried.

Is it wrong to have hopes
And dreams in a broken heart?

You don't keep them anywhere
Where they would fade with the time.

You don't place them somewhere
Where they could be forgotten.

They must be safe in a place
Where they would not cease to exist
Or be passed by the hands of time.

Even if the heart, itself, is not safe.

And when your heart breaks,
*That's when they become true.

The heart --
        Can never be open
        Unless somebody
        Breaks it.
        
The love --
        Can never be true
        Unless somebody
        Makes it.

The seasons --
        Can never change
        Unless somebody
        Feels it.

These blankets --
        Can never be warm
        Unless they are
        Somebody's arms.

These words --
        Can never be relevant
        Unless they are
        For you.