Where the Wild Hearts Bleed

Where the Wild Hearts Bleed

I loved you like the ocean loves the storm—

fierce, unrelenting, with no thought to form.

You came to me not gently, but in flame,

and whispered ruin sweetly with my name.

You were not meant for hands that tremble so,

but still I reached, though every tide said *no.*

You were the knife that asked to be embraced,

the kiss that scorched, the breath I never chased.

I burned my prayers into the sky for you,

and still you vanished with the morning dew.

You were a gospel written out in pain,

a vow made once, then swallowed by the rain.

Each night, I build your memory anew,

from ashes, tears, and silhouettes of *you.*

And though the world insists that love moves on,

my heart still sings the ghost of your old song.

If love is war, then let me wear your name

as battle-scars I do not wish to tame.

You were my ruin—yes, and yet, my grace.

The wreckage of you is my sacred place.