Love is as a peom, written without its end.

As its weary poet inks his barren pen.

An art all men wish to read, though very few can see; yes love is above all things, this world's greatest mystery.

Love is gentle.
Love is true.
Love is temptation.
Can you refuse?

Betrayal... is that piece of metal, placed beneath the tongue. And though you rinse and wash, its taste remains; it is too strong.

Betrayal... is that castle on high; no matter how far one goes, it still shows in the sky.

Betrayal... is the lord who demands with each new day, of your heart, a greater tithe. Advising you to march onward and love; even though foes charge at you from the sides and above.

I am tired... so very exhausted of it all; inside of this frail body, heart and mind wage a war. I am human, and only human after all.

I am the boy who sits at the back of the class; I am the myth and legend, that you have never heard laugh.

I am the eloquent, who so seldom speaks "Good day." and "Goodbye."
I am the b r o k e n, though you will never see me; p a r t i a l or cry.

I am the Lie.

I am the Lie, well housed in the illusion of an ever-present smile.

I am the wary traveller, exhausted yet still encouraging others to walk the extra mile.

I am the dying and ill, who screams to others. "Keep surviving and living, hold fast to your will; life once truly lived, has both bad and good."

I am a human... for better or worse. I am a duality to all others; either a blessing or a curse.

I am a song sang, though others remember only a verse... I am a play, that has been exhaustively rehearsed.

Love is at first a whisper... pressed against your ears, by the wind. Then it becomes a flicker, that burns from within; emotions expressed... exposed and eternalised; though you would wish them only to end.

So, in a futile attempt to repent, you remind yourself of a reality well known; though you would wish it, not your own: "We are friends, just friends... and nothing more."

So you brace yourself, content to never show, those emotions that you have buried in an unmarked grave; so that they will never know.

Lo, you embrace your hell, content to type the words that you cannot tell; love is the blurred line, between heaven and hell.

Love is the lullaby, that you sing to yourself; an elixir of poison mercury, that you drink for your health.

It has never been this hard to breathe, but it has been breathless... suffocating, since you decided to leave.

It feels as though you took a piece of me, and left the rest behind to grieve; as the Sun of our Future dims and sets, shadowed memories of our Past are cast; offering me no relief... no release.

Can you hear my silent screams? You have made nightmares of our pleasant dreams. The tears I shed are often unseen, just like the wounds from which I bleed.

My silent screams, they fill the air, they are at their loudest when no one is near. They plead for a need yet unmet; for a want though beyond my gain. Yet even they weep and wail, at the mere mention your name.

Within these walls reflect, rising remorse and roused regret; symphonies of sorrow seasoned and spiced by despair: Broken promises have brought and forsaken us here.