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