His love.

She looks at old pictures,
& Fakes a smile on her face,
So that every tear,
Leaves no visible trace.

It's not about the times they fought,
Or the tears that had been shed.
It was the love from the heart,
Not from the head.

He'll never really understand,
How much she loved him.
He'll never really comprehend,
How much she needs a chance at hand.

She doesn't know,
Whose on his mind at night,
But before she goes to bed,
It's his love she holds tight.

All along it was his heart,
She didn't want to trade.
& As pictures are forgotten,
The memories start to fade.

For every broken heart,
& Every word left unspoken,
Those promises we made,
Never meant to be broken.

** This is the first poem i have written in about a month. and it's probably my favorite one i have ever written too .