when light is gone and night is deep
she appears at night when I'm asleep

she touches me with hands cold as ice
she looks at me with those blood red eyes

and now that the moon turns crimson red
she drinks my blood as I lie in bed

oh dear.... I'm a walking dead.

No, love.
I am not a knight in shining armour.
My armour is bent and dented and
cracked, and underneath it are cuts
and bruises and scars from the horrors
of countless battles I've seen, and
some of them almost did break me.

No, love.
I am not a knight in shining armour.
But if you'll have me,
I'm prepared to take a vow and swear
an oath of fealty and devotion and love.

You need only ask.

You cannot say you truly love her.

Not until you've seen the demons
she fought or still fighting to keep
her sanity, nor the monsters that
fuelled her nightmares.

Not until you've had an idea about
the storms she had to face bravely,
yet still managed to share her light
and warmth with you.

It's not always warm coffee and
blanket shared on cold mornings.

It's not always sunshine and butterflies.

It's not only her light that needs to be
cherished.

When you say you truly love her,
you gotta love her dark, too.

Love, happiness, pain;
Three things I felt after meeting you again.

Love—
My heart fluttered like the butterflies in my belly,
Just like in the past when I bumped into you accidentally.

Happiness—
I was filled with bliss as I looked at your face;
Your smile that was taken has now been regained

Pain—
I regret my actions that throbbed you like swords,
because now she's your reason for the two preceding words.