Love Poem of Sorts

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

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