He was art.
Art more beautiful than the stars that Van Gogh loved so much, more intense than any melody, Pablo Picasso's art couldn't even come close to your strokes
He was those metaphors with a deep meaning, he was a book of intense poems that made us reflect for hours
Days could pass, he always surprised me.
It didn't matter where he was, or who he was with, it was only him that mattered to me
He was love.
Loving you was good, it was one of the purest things I've ever felt
But it was also a tearing pain that cut through my heart like a knife.
The deeper we went, the more my heart was bruised
YOU ARE READING
dark thoughts about love - love & complications
PoetryLove, a pure thing that can sometimes be corrupted through pain, fear and lack of empathy. In this book, I'll write poems and poetry about love and its pains
