I would do anything for you if only you would hold me. But you told me to stop, so I did, for you. You told me to let go, but I couldn’t, for us, for me. My heart would shatter if I just let go of everything and I wish you would feel the same. Somehow I don’t see the pain I’m in reflected in you. You, with those big dry eyes and perfect face with pretty hair that falls around it. Did I love too much? Did I lose my sanity when I thought you were the best thing in my life? The worst part is that even with all my poems and late night crying, I don’t miss the hugs and kisses and hand holding as much as I miss you being a friend. Just talking about our days and sharing stories, that security and knowing you would have my back when I feel bad. And now that I feel the worst I have ever felt, you don’t want to talk. Forget romantic love, where is the reliable, consistent love we give our closest friends and family? It’s not about holding hands, it’s about holding hearts and you dropped mine.
I’m not angry, never angry at you. Just disappointed. I’m sorry
Having a penis doesn’t make you a man.
Having a vagina doesn’t make you a woman.
To be a man, you must be as swift as the coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon, with all the strength of a raging fire, mysterious as the dark side of the moon