At deathbeds

No, it might be, that I'm not supposed to

Love you, 

Because we know love is a silly thing 

Wreaking havoc. 

My love for you is almost havoc; 

Save for the peace of soul you have shoved me into. 

Loving you, has been a genuine resurrection into loving myself, 

And learning man again, 

(If you could call it that). 

It is raining outside, just the way I like: awake and at night- 

And I think of you as I often do, 

And wish for some reason that I still had your number... 

( and respect). 

Love is truly a lotus. Rare but not terribly 

uncommon; using wasted nutrients and abundant mud mass to become a awe-ful beauty. 

Rare indeed. 

It is I who have won. 

And you. 

I will love you forever, regardless. 

How guard-less.

How sabotaged, you'd dared me. 

How relished I became, lapping it up. 

Seeing now, 

What you'd meant. 

And laughing; 

And horrified. 

Because I lost. 

And you lost. 

Until we bet another hand. 

And the luck comes in Aces, or timing, or fate. 

I love 

 you

Always.  

And it is your win. 

And my loss. 

Until we're dealt another hand. 

Who will win, 

At deathbeds?