I write poetry from pain
Written with the blood of the writer
From the most vulnerable times
From some of the darkest places
I do not write about the happy memories
I write about the ones that hurt to remember
But the ones we look back on nonetheless
Despite the pain that comes with being reminded
The grief that comes; knowing what was lost
What will never be again
Yet people say that grief is love
That has no where else to go
Yet my grief come out in writing
So beautifully bittersweet
A love letter to what was lost
Being thankful it was once there
I write poetry from tears
Ones both happy and sad
Created from the memories
Of what I once had