Wednesday, June 15, 2011

the end of something is the beginning of something

.
.
i am okay, and i will be.
(i am sure of it. almost)
there are braver words to be spoken;
there are better days to be had.
but when love (whatever we've decided "love" is)...
when love ends
there is not much else to do but
drink tequila in the afternoon
cheer on your losing hockey team
walk in the sunshine
and think of all the ways love hurt you.

love is not love if it is selfish,
it is not love if empathy is far from hand.
love doesn't force or coerce or belittle
and yet
that is almost all i know of it.
     (what then, should I not be glad?)

where is this love that builds?
i have heard of it,
but seeing is better.
i would like to see it; before
what's left of me believes what was left on me.