You try to push me away
With your 'poorly-phrased' words,
Stabbing my exposed heart until
Bloody love drips softly down.
With blunt answers, you strip me
Of my beauty, my passion,
My unrivaled desire to be absolutely happy
With only you.

My pride demands that I lash out;
Fight back with the bitter two-sided claws
Of a woman wounded by the man she loves.
But the love I feel for you,
Puddled into staining drops,
Begs for me to reconsider your intentions:

"Why would he push away,
Cast you aside like undesired gems,
After admitting that a part of him
Wants you as well?
Honey, I can feel the emotions
Running through that great heart of his:
He just doesn't know what he wants."

Well, that's great for him
But how do you, a conceptional emotion, understand
The secret reality of his heart?

"Only emotions can whisper the true language,
And only the heart can translate the secret whispers.
I am Love; I speak directly from the heart,
And sweetie, his heart has a lot to say about you."

So, Love, why can't he be happy
Being near me, understanding
That the feelings I have for him
Won't destroy my fighting soul?
Instead, he tries to remove them,
Slicing the tendons of my emotions
From my beating heart
With the sharpened blades of his words.
Is he trying to save me
Or break my bleeding heart?

...

Love has gone quiet;
It's dried in miscolored patterns
Of disappointed dreams and
Possible realities that will not come to be.
And now, there's only you, my dear,
Speaking as if every word matters.
However, behind your tone and invocation,
I stare into your dark gold eyes,
And search for your true intentions;
I see a startling truth:
The love-stained patterns of my heart
Are reflected and growing in your own.

12/05/2008