A Season of Winter

Literature)  I used to dream of the day he'd say that he loves me. It'd be sincere, like rain plummeting onto dry soil. It'd be soft, like a hymn sung between chapel walls. Intentional, like poetry. Intricate, like the pulse that beats for him. My soil was met with drought and fortitude crumbled beneath silence. There was never intention, only substance, but nothing substantial.  I'm Not Crying, You Are: You saw the tears but didn't notice how my love bled into despondence. Did you look back as you were leaving? Or was cremating my heart just that easy? You once said I'm your new beginning, but I'm still at the airport waiting for you to tell me that you love me. I reminisce about a kiss that never happened. Slam the car door— you in my arms— the beat of my heart— I'm not crying , you are.  You denied my right to certainty and sentenced me to three months of unease.  The price I pay for making you my priority— How can I live in the moment when you've...

  Literature)  To cry an array of tears in demonstration. To feel my heart splinter like a wishbone never wished upon. To think you the sky and me a beggar—to see you that way; with eyes like a typhoon, crying for you. This  is what it means to fall in love but never reside in it.  Is This What It Means To Fall In Love?: Roses are dead, violets too. I'm everything but enough for you. My head says leave and I know it's right, but my heart tells me to give it time. So I go through every goddamn motion and be the man I wish I had. I tell myself that you're worth it. My tears, my time, everything I have. You'll be the first to leave, 'cause I'm too weak to walk out your dorm and end things with you. I'm the only one with something to lose. Is this what it means to fall in love? I broke my heart to make you happy. Piece by piece but it means nothing. I can't cry without feeling guilty. Is this what it means to fall in love? I could be the love of your life....