whisperedverse:

Sugar and spice and everything nice,
and lust, and pain,
and bitter refrains,
and love unrequited,
or returned, then lost,
or felt too deeply
no matter the cost,
and beauty so pure
as to make us weep,
and the type of darkness
that won’t foster sleep,
and hope and despair,
and obsessive need,
and everything else
our pens might bleed.
That’s what poetry’s made of.

(via whisperedverse-deactivated20110)