The love that I write.

It seems all I think about are these questions you start.

My poems stopped coming once you were gone,

My heart seemed frozen,

It no longer could feel,

It no longer could hear the words

That sounded so sweet.

The words I wrote for you.

All I do is write poems of love,

Of the love I had, of the love I found again.

I'm afraid to get hurt, to give my feelings away.

I gave them to you and you never left.

They ask me if I love you and all I can do is shake my head

Because I don't love you…I love who I thought you were.

My poems are coming because you are gone.

I finally realized it was ok,

To love someone else,

To take the chance to get hurt.

I will always question myself about the choices we made.

Why it couldn't work and why we gave up?

But here is someone new, someone who maybe will care for my heart.

Or not.

It happens I guess, but maybe for once

I'll be the girl who's hard to leave the girl who is always on your mind.

Not just some pretty girl with tears in her eyes left alone again to stand on the corner

And figure it out.

For twice is hard but three times might kill her.