Why is it that those whom you love Are the ones that can hurt you the most? Because they know the chinks in your armour, below and above…. And where the darts will hit home. You listen to the words with a face devoid of expression Because you cannot show the world how it hurts. To others, the words are quite ordinary But in you, the words hurt. And hurt. And hurt. The wounds ooze, not blood, but tears; Tears that well up in your heart, not in your eyes. You may smile and smile and smile at the world, and bleed tears inside. Tiny little stabs can hurt more, then, Than the pieces of a heart breaking apart. It happens too often, too often… Being together should be a joy, not a source of pain. One should want to meet again. Often, one’s sorrow wears The mask of a smile; And one hopes one is wise… That things will be better in a while.