Reva Mae Poet I do not know?

Bleed

I cry softly,
as all of the memories come, 
of the times I shared with him.
Love is sick.

I bleed from the heart,
as it break in two.
I hide in the dark,
and never try to come back out.

Maybe this was suppose to happen,
we all live, we all die, we all cry,
so even if he's gone.
I will leave it behind me,
but it will take blood and sweat
to try to forget him.

I loved him dearly,
but now he's gone.
I bleed from the heart,
and that all there is.

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