No turning back.
No cut and run.

The arrow of time
is irreversible. 

Love cannot unhappen,
cannot be undone.

You go forward
blissful or bereaved.

Carry love 
cellular and bloody.

Weave an elegant cloak
embroidered and bejeweled

with the first kiss, first union,
your willingness to be transformed,

a prayer for God’s blessing,
to spin with angels until the end.

When time, history,
the frail footing of promises collapse,

wrap yourself in that cloak,
your story, cocooned and full.

Understand it hurts because you loved.
Not because you didn’t.
                        

He said he loved her words, eyes to heaven,
hand over heart. Sighed. Said

he swallowed her hungry for sight,
recognition, how that one line:

The legalese of lost love is tragic
speared him, made him feel known. How

he loves her in a wild school-boy crush
kind of way, his world psychedelic, 

spinning electric crimson, ochre, 
the bluest autumn sky. Not like

the wife, no spark, biting silence,
wears flannel pajamas in summer. Said

you put a spell on me, made me want you
when I shouldn’t, made me a bad boy. Said

Can I kiss you?