If I had to show you what you did to me , I’d have to open my chest and dip my hands inside
They’d come out stained with the purples and blues of my emotions
Like paint it colours everything inside me
And it layers itself over my rationality, steaming up my ability to think

My heart is like a pomegranate tree, and you just plucked all the fruits
The tree is bare, and all fruits lay scattered around me
They are many to count, so I look at them from the corner of my eye
What do I do with all of them
Do I taste them and let them besmirch my lips
Do I leave them and let them rot

Either way the fruit is bitter
Whether I leave it or taste it the result is the same

It doesn’t hurt when others do it because they’re not as close as u r to my heart
When you move I feel it
And when you leave I feel that too like red string it tugs my heart
And there only so many tugs I can take before I cut the strings myself even though they are veins
I'd rather bleed than let my heart be torn apart

I love like I’m in love
I fall like how I  trip
Small details are what capture me
The things you don’t say the things you try to hide
Love is sometimes too soft of a word for the feelings I feel
It’s exactly like حب
Love a seed
And I feel it’s roots
Is that what makes it hurt?

This all that I said is to say I love dramatically, but dw it’s extremely platonic. If I had a husband, I think my love would be borderline obsession, which is why I’d rather die an old maid