My love for poetry

I lied.

I said I don't care,

but I suffer every night.

I bleed on paper

to keep me from bleeding out.

I try to forget,

I try to forgive,

I try to live.

But I can't, can I?

Not without bleeding on paper.

Without writing my soul out for everyone to see,

letting every feeling escape- every feeling you cut into my heart.

But it's okay.

You made me create masterpieces.