Query any poem you want.

I've dreamt of you in places only the heart can find, places where our broken reflections exist like masks in the mirror of punishment and pleasure.

A man in the throes of a static and enraptured mind cloaked in pity robes.

...My love, It is I that may suffer...

 Could you romance me with the song your soul sings when it rejoices in feelings of love and longing?

The smoldering, twisted passions?

The parts of each other we've mangled with care?

...My love, It is I that has suffered...

 Pieces of thoughts written in water have told the tales of a beautiful confession of pain, before rippling away into nothing at all, only bygone moments shared and the lingering contusions the heart sustained.

...My love, It is you that may suffer...

 Severed I arrived here and as such I will go, without any guidance through any of this grief.

I've sat alone and made knots of my hands, forcing perspectives and collecting private scars.

Dare I unmercifully fall to pieces and prod the center of the wound just once more?

...My love, It is this reality we suffer...

 I could disintegrate into the after with you and dance for an eternity before a symphony of broken gravestones..

...I could slip into you and leave a part of me at all, but even still in death could our souls be deprived of one another?

Were forever together, were forever apart, but I'll hang a crooked smile on my face for you, Just before our souls depart.

 ...My love, It is this that we suffer...

-C. Rodriguez