When I was a little girl I used to wonder why songs were always about love. I think I know now...
It’s because love is incredible,
In many ways:
It can make you happy,
It can feel like magic
But somehow it’s real.
It can make dreams come true
And every bad thing in the world
Irrelevant.
It can make every bad thing in the world
Something you can triumph over…
together.
And before you know it,
Love has taken over your life
You live love, you live through your
love and you love…
You love your love.
You’re glowing
You finally feel alive
You're savouring every moment
But love is not perfect
Love is not impenetrable
Love is more than want or hope
Love is doing
Love is actively doing and actively
loving
Love suffers with unhappiness
And when the unhappiness grows to a
point where
It is more visible than the love
It is more visible than the love
The love begins to die
It can be dying before you realise,
before you realise how much you needed it
How much it meant to you
What you wanted to build with it
And before long, once the unhappiness morphs into destruction
The love dies.
Dead.
A thing of the
past
One of you may try to revive it
But while the other is ready to bury
it, this won’t happen
And as much as you want to tear the
shovel from his hands
He will not let go (of it).
You waste time
You waste energy
If anything, you make him dig with
increased urgency
Breaking the earth until there’s
nothing left to stand on
Just a deep, dark hole to Hell
Why?
There are no definite answers
But in this moment
Your despair and desperation
scares him
And even the memories of your love
become
Warped.
It was good then
It is bitter now
You want it to be good again
It might
But in this moment
You cannot mourn the love
There is no time for that, life keeps
going
The clock keeps ticking
And the world keeps turning
It is a privilege to experience true
love
You were lucky
Now you’re back in the real world
Some people will be lucky
And you will
not envy them because you’ve been lucky
And will be lucky again.
Love comes in many forms
Love comes when it’s ready, not when
you are
As you know
Because the love you had knocked you
off your feet
(It carried you, you flew with it)
Time to stand up again.
A Poem of Sorts by Antonia Francis, 1st Jan 2015
