A Love Song
I once wrote a love song
with my soul. A Shakespearean
love sonnet we could sing together.
I thought it would always keep
your body close to mine. But,
our harmony became off-key,
the words muddled.
We lay in the grass seeing faces
in the sky. (Is that cloud your face
drifting from me? Is the sky
really falling? On us?)
Your words, "I'm leaving" cut open
my heart and we watched as our
music played out.
I loved you then and still feel a tug
on my heart when hearing your
name. How can two people who love
so deeply search for the tiniest fault,
which becomes a fissure, unleashing
a flood that washes away love?
How crazy is life that we unravel the
very thread that has sewn our lives
together? In anger, we threw our love's
puzzle onto the floor, then frantically
tried to remember how the pieces once
fit so snugly, so uniformly...so impossibly.
I've learned now not to live my love songs.
My feet are firmly placed on rock instead of
sand. When those intoxicating words and lovers
call me, I'll not answer. But I'll still listen
for their music; I'll still dream.
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