Suddenly, it begins to leave.
Oh the days you took for granted, not fully cherishing what was there.
Its wonder took you under,
and now it was wanting another.
It should have been told to you it wouldn't last, if only someone had stepped forward.
To spare you the pain,
to spare you the scars.
This suffering feels to much to bear,
alone, unwanted, unworthy, unwound.
Just as a woven rug is wound tight,
all it takes is a pulled string to demolish it.
Like a puzzle without all it's pieces,
you tell yourself you'll be fine.
It'll get better right?
It always had before...
Before you realized it could leave...
Would leave...
YOU ARE READING
Love
PoetryA poetic description of the idea of "love" without ever using the word itself. I took this way of writing by challenge, so please enjoy my thoughts on what "love" is and feels like, even its fallout.
