Love's Rewards and Many Burdens
A freshly broken heart does not hold new love well.
Only time's needle and thread can mend it,
And the scars left behind will always be fault lines,
Waiting to fall apart once more.
A bridge older than all others,
Waiting to crumble until you've come to believe it will never falter,
That is the form that love so often takes.
You then tumble down into the bitter seas of depression,
Where some may never resurface.
Even so...
Is not the fragile,
Almost ethereal nature of love the very reason we reach for it?
Same as the rose,
Love's many thorns may tear at you,
But once it blossoms,
It is worth so much more.
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