The tears are falling like rain—
heavy but silent there goes the sharp sheer of pain.
This saccharine sadness goes far beyond the line,
It goes through the skin, flesh, bone, witnessed by the eye.

​

The hurt was merciless, not a blessing in disguise,
she doesn't stop until it's numb, there's pleasure in despise.
It pierces through every armor with a lot of blood to spare,
with thought not one nor two but questions spilled, uncared.

​

Love is patient, love is kind.
Thus, no hesitation goes through the mind. 
Love is the shield to every little big lies, there's goes the saying:
with every arrow comes the butterflies.

​

Nails carving skins with glee, the hurt is only careful—not once free. 
This affection towards the impossible is a burden to keep,
through the broken bones of the earth from heavens that weep.
Love is humble, love is known. 

Therefore, hurt can never kneel to mourn. 

Vulnerability comes bare, no clothes, no masks.
Bruises welcomes the heat, heavy with rough touch. 
When the hurt falls for love it's dangerous, 
like how the mind is aware of a drug but remains ferocious.