Love whispers forever. It learned
to lie from my younger self.
That self that didn’t break from scrapes
from falling on the concrete.
This old bag of bones, this stranger
that snuck in while I was asleep,
feels the weight of gravity
more than lightheaded love.
This old bag of bones crumbles
from maladies foreign
to my younger self, who cried
only from a broken heart.
This old bag of bones wants to run
from a truth it learns the hard way.
We’re not meant to last forever
in living or in love.
For endings:
published in Substack:
finely crafted ~ grapeling
An inescapable truth and disappointment that ripples from it.
~Li from tao-talk
Love your perspective. It is a gift to learn from hindsight, which may include mistakes. Nothing lasts forever. -Grace
Nothing really lasts forever... indeed
Nice title and I enjoyed reading the poem. It's sublime. :)
-kittysverses