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 The Truth About Blackwidow by Blackwidow i'm sick of writing poetry that reflects my pain, over time it has drove me insane. i write about unhappiness. and all of my emptiness. i tell about the times i fell in love, i tell about the times i was betrayed. but deep down, no matter how much i hate him, a part of me wished he stayed. truth is, i'm not as vain as i appear to be. i just cover up my hopes and hide my reality. see, i really do want love to creep into my heart. and when push comes to shove, i dont care if it tears me apart. that's life, it's part of this game. you pick up the pieces and carry on. forget he came. i'll burn his memory with the rest. though all of this i confess. there is still one thing i have not said. i am in love, and he's all i think about as i lay here in bed. i'm not unhappy, nor do i feel the pain i once did. everything about life has become so candid. this is what breathing is about, this is what we live for, what we wait to feel. and more than anything, i want this for the rest of my life, because in 50 years, i'll love him still.
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