Why do we love,
when each thread we weave
is destined to fray?
We adopt pets,
knowing one day their wagging tails
will slow,
and we'll stand in the doorway,
watching them fade into memory,
leaving pawprints in the dust.
We connect with people,
offer our secrets like rare coins,
even as we drift away,
separated by time, distance, or silence.
We'll hold their stories,
the weight of their laughter,
like notes to a song
that no longer plays.
To love is to dance with the temporary,
to believe, for just a moment,
that forever is something we can hold—
even as it slips between our fingers
like grains of sand.
We'll grow apart,
or love will simply fade,
leaving us alone
with nothing but echoes.
Yet still, we choose to love.
Why?
Because without love,
who am I but a ghost
in a life too quiet, too still?
I am a collection
of every soul I've ever touched,
every heartbeat I've known.
The tapestry of my life
is woven with threads of loss and joy,
its colors bold and bruised,
each stitch telling a story
that is beautifully temporary.
—MistakenGenius
YOU ARE READING
Surviving Heartbreak
PoetryA lover girl who got her heart broken one too many times and now ended up writing poetry about it
