His love for me.

I'd part not of his gestures that gladness or the ache, cry amounted to his knowing

And not a drop I'd fake,

but take what's known of my affections to eagerly awaiting forms, for when he's angered so be that of I, inside we're twisted storm's,

Can one wait amongst the stars

for a movement known to space, id cry not knowing any freedom, and his touch of loving grace,

there has to be an answer in this troubled soul beyond what's light, Darkness keeps its hands on me, and I'm weakening in the fight,

be that my resilience has been tested many ways

I could not survive another lovers death in parted days,

But reconcile with my will and courage that shattered glass and shard, because breathing takes so little time, but granted love is hard,

I long to love him just the same, to amount beyond what feels, and hope with all my heart and soul this wounded love it heals,

Don't go easy battle for me, and I shall fight for all we've made, let not the value of our kiss, or touch make it to the grave,

burry nothing but the past, and keep the light alive in us, for nothing more or even war could display more sorrow in such trust,

And all but stars in gentle nights accompanied by the dust, make the dreamer weave their hearts to full effects that speed towards the light,

but I would not give such mourning, a better home there to ignite, but ask that love be furthermore the value in the depths I see,

and conclude that it never ends, nor his love for me.