I love you
Coming from the wrong person
Those words feel like a weapon
And twenty swords drawn, aimed at your heart,
Just waiting for the precise moment to thrust.
You do not trust the person you love to love you back in a gentle way
A way that is good for your soul.
No, they are the type of person that will hit you, all while dripping good intentions like blood from a wound.
Punch you in the stomach while softly telling you that you are their world.
And the tragedy is, they often mean it. But cannot see beyond their own red hands.
The special pain of oblivious lovers.
Am I cursed to love the ignorant?
Perhaps so. For you are a poison that smells of Roses and I drink you in all the same.
By the Brooke 