When we lose love—
Or love loses us—
Tears our hearts as wastepaper
And flies away afar
We lose “what we love”, first thing.
Who danced to every song lies down for days
Who wrote countless words hates the shape of vowels
Who photographed moments turns the eyes away, to void.
Maybe, just maybe,
“What we love” was the culprit, the antithesis of love.
Maybe, just maybe,
If we lose “what we love” … “the love” will come back. To us?
No. It doesn’t, never did.
Inch by inch, nonchalant, we start feeling again
A twitch, a tingle, a hymn.
“What we love” runs in the veins
“What we love” bridges the nerves
“What we love” lights up the road and brings us home.
Our hearts never heal, really, stay scarred
Only “what we love” pumps little oxygen
And keeps us alive.
