I love you

Your guiding hands are always there
To catch me when I fall.
Soft combs through my tangled hair
Hugs, a protective wall.

Your strength's a roaring lioness,
Your heart burning so bright,
Fighting through the crushing stress.
You burn away the night

Is it the words that flow and rhyme
And dance in rhythm, keeping time?

Or is it a line
That breaks when it wants to,
Not when it’s told;
A thought
Spilling without apology?

Or 5-7-5
Secrets whispered by the wind
Words, though few, sing true?

Perhaps it is found behind coughed petals,
Fourteen lines aligning to pave a stage
Where lovers for love charge into battle
And hearts are found pierced or tangled in rage

Or ten words, though short, a poem for the world

Or the sun spilling gold across the sky
Painting clouds as the sea drowns its light.

To me, poetry is emotion;
Memory,
Ink spilled where the heart leaked
And it is not meant for everyone

So brittle
That a single word (or seven)
Could pour salt on my opened palms
And break
My short sense of happiness

When my tears dry
And my sobs cease
Do not mistake it for me calming down.
I've simply realised that you cannot hear my screams
And will say everything but the words I need to hear

When my tears stop
And my sobs fall silent
Do not think I'm doing better.
It just means I've changed the locks
And will continue to break where your gaze won't wander

When my tears shatter
And my sobs lose breath
You will hear everything in that silence
For the ending will be laid out before you
In a casket that will echo my story