Because

I stayed.

Because I loved him.

I let him beat my brain and tear me apart.

I took my dark marks, and made them into art.

until one day, I finally ran away.

Because I loved him.

It was for the best.

I made the decision to leave, so that I could finally rest

Because I loved him.

I saw he moved on so I tried to too.

The pain faded, along with my black and blues.

Because I loved him.

I tried to forget what his face looked like.

Because I hated him.

I cried into my pillows most nights,

flooded with memories of him, all alone in a dark, stale room.

I guided the blame, to its rightful owner

and it was me who felt ashamed, as I was the beholder.

Because I loved him.

I learned to hate myself.

Because I knew him.

I thought I couldn’t be with anyone else.

I came to a dead end, with nowhere to go.

My light was so dim, I could no longer see my shadow.

Then, I met you.

Fluttering finger tips hovering over a keyboard.

Into me, smiles and warmth is what you poured.

Room 105 flooded my mind

It was in that classroom that I would find piece of mind.

Because of you.

I learned I deserve happiness.

Because of you.

I gained hope, and let go of my bitterness.

Because of you.

I found love.

Not only to give, but also within.

Because you love me,

I know what love should look like.

Because I don’t love him anymore,

I am free.

because that’s not how love is supposed to be.

Love is,

soft touches, whispered words and silly faces with the intent of smiles and laughter to heal their broken spaces.

Love is,

to spill your truths along with your tears, knowing they will wipe them away gently and without fear.

Love is,

shouting at the top of your lungs in a passionate wake, whether it be an exciting positive or an excruciating negative, knowing they will help you work out the equation while practicing the balance of give and take.

Love is,

another reason to get out of bed in the morning.

Love is,

something I once lost and have since, been mourning.

Love is,

something that has come into my life once more, and for this I am so thankful; my heart is no longer sore.

My love is yours.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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