We may sit again
Published in
1 min readMay 8, 2017
We may sit again at a bar one day.
Drinking lager, missing dinner,
only finding one another.
It is too easy to forget and so
difficult to remember that who
I loved is not who I love; that
who I love is not who is loved.
Who I love is not who looks out
through those eyes and hears these
tender words. Falling in love is like
being lost in the fog. Bright lights only
make it harder to find your way home.
When falling all one can hope for is a
safe landing; a pillow or a pool and
not some concrete slab. The impulse
is to hold on tight as if the life of the world
depends on that clawing appendage staying
right where it is. To let go is frightening.
To be touched by beauty is terrifying.
