For Want of a Poem

Your words hurt,
hurt more than I will admit;
but not enough to make me cry,
not even enough
for one good, sorrowful poem.

So I found new ways to love you more,
found new ways to hurt some more,
then the tears began to fall,
and the poems got sadder,
and the poems got better;
enough for people to stop and read,
enough for people to start to cheer,
and I was smiling.

Then I wished that you were near,
to read these poems with me here,
and my eyes began to mist,
and I wrote one more
heartbroken poem.