by remembertoexhale

He is exactly the poem 
I wanted to write 
and now that he’s gone 
I have no more words except the tired four:
“I still love you”
and Clementine’s
“If anyone else were to kiss me
all they would taste is your name”
because you are all that is within me
and I wish that I could rip you out
because I have never been called a romantic
until I tried to write you down in a poem
and you are not mine to write