I look around. The trees are bare. I'm looking for you, but you're not there. The wind blows cold, the grass slowly browns. A thin blanket of frost tells me winter is around. I used to sit with you at Christmas near the fireplace flame, but now I fear I might be losing you again. If you don't love me, that is fine. I just need you to look me in the eyes and tell me, but promise me you won't lie. Because if you do that, another piece of me will die. While you may not notice, the result still remains: I begin to slip away. After my brain gives way, I completely fall apart. I just wanted you to know, almost nothing can heal a broken heart.
Do not report. I wrote this poem to someone very special to me, and you should not report me for loving them. Thank you.