An Introverted Chaos

Queries Awakened by Quarrels

I always wrote you poems from the heart. Don't take this personally, for my emotions have simply gotten the best of me. Sweet words usually flow freely from my fingertips, but today the ink's bloody. My heart aches with hurt and I intend on expressing my grief. I love you but while writing this I couldn't hate you less. Your tornado of lies. Your sea of filth. You're a naturally occurring disaster. You robbed me of my innocence and now you stain me with guilt. Are you my partner or an enemy? Enemy it seems in the way you lie. Enemy it seems in the way you betray. Enemy it seems in the way you broke me. But are you not the person I share my darkest secrets with? Are you not the person I trust with my life? Are you not the person I see when I think of happily ever after? Are you not my one true love? Are you not the one I gave my all too? Maybe what lies in lover is my answer. Over. Over think. Over do. Overload. Like tea in a kettle my love for you spills over but it burns to touch. But what lies in lover is what I want. Love. Unconditional and consistent. I stated earlier how much I hated you while writing this but could I really hate someone that has given me so much? Yes. But not forever. I hated you for taking things from me. Some peace of mind. Trust. Even love at times. But these are things that should not be dwelled upon. So are you enemy or lover? Life or death? I believe you are both. Both in the way that I die a little every time I'm with you. Both in the way that you revive me with your kiss. Both in the way that neither will stop us from being together. You are your own storm. Dangerous to touch but oh so compelling. I'll forever drink in the touch of your poison. For I have developed an immunity to it. For I am your storm. The bloody inkwell has run dry but our love will never faulter. For the words I have written carry a temporary bitterness, never everlasting.