I love you in tears,
And I love you in blood,
But doesn't that still count as love?

I see it in you, can you see it in me?
That thing some die looking for,
That thing some never find.

This our thing is not for their understanding.
This our thing is our thing.
It lives inside of me
as it does inside of you.

We built this house up from nothing,
so we know every crack in the walls,
every leak in the roof.

You pulled out the chair from under my feet.
Do you know how much it hurt me?
You pulled it out on purpose.
Did you mean to hurt me?

I know, I did it once to you too.
Are you still mad at me?
Has your anger not subsided yet?

But you twist my hand at night,
And I know you are sorry.
There are tear drops on my neck.
How much more sorry could I be?

How much more proving should I do?
This is all I can offer.
I hope it counts for something.

This thing is our thing,
Blind to others, but always in our light
We'll work it out,
We'll fix it.

You love me in pain,
And you love me in anger,
But doesn't that still count as love?

This was meant to be dinner for two,
But everyone took a spoonful.
And now there's nothing left for me and you.

Grab the wood, and I'll grab the glue.
Let's rebuild the walls,
And mend the roof.

This night I'll be in your arms, and you in mine.
Because we love in fights, and hungry fists.
And we love in midnight walks,
and "I love you"'s with no replies.

And we love in quarrels, and comforting hands.
And we love in silent tears and unexpected back hugs.
And we love in walking out's and slamming doors,
And in passionate kisses and violent tempers.
And in sweet deceit, and soft words.

And even if no one else does
We my darling, will count this as our love.

Poem: Yomi Tadfor
Illustration: Adrita