Poetry makes it seem like love is something you can lose.
It’s not. But it is fairly easy to misplace.
Cupid swerves his truck through a gutter puddle, soaking a few months or years of our lives in love. But it never seems to last.
And that’s where most people misplace their love.
It’s hard to see it at first, through all the shouting and screaming and tears. But as time unwinds from love’s silky thighs, a little something gets left behind.
There’s a part of me that remembers being in love with everyone in my past; that remembers a time and place when we were together and we were happy.
We can never go back there but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist, locked deep in the past where it can’t be changed.
A memory of time well spent, with someone we cared about.
Always and forever, and never again, all at the same time.