The desire to be loved tonight is weirdly enough. Enough to love myself.

And when you spoke, I felt my wounds heal by your scars.

And the same knife that met my back by his graceful hand, was now cutting me cheese for dinner.

And even if your tears would turn into pearls
And you would bleed smooth, velvet wine,
I could never make you cry,
I would never hurt your heart.

I was your loyal soldier for years, isn’t it time to pay back?
And don’t tell me about them
They were a period-
A sweet treat for battles.
Nights of battles worth
of couple of months
As a consolation.
I’ve been told tales
Songs, poems, legends
About your power
Am I not enough for your bless?

And I fought for love but will it ever fight for me?

Don’t come back
With all your grace
And indestructible charm.
Leave.
And don’t look back.
A word
I’ll be before your door,
Ruthlessly pulling the handle
Of the door that closed before my nose.
Denying each and every memory
Of pain.
Don’t come back.

Her lines where full of questions, like she was asking someone behind her poetry. Too bad her words gave up on trying to reach her. And all because she forgot how to hear them.