In the beginning, love was slow;
That warm feeling seeping slowly into her heart
When she wasn’t looking, filling her up
Until she felt she would burst with happiness.
She’d been wrong. Love was hurtful;
Pain and heartbreak had left her raw.
Love didn’t exist! she told herself.
She would never fall in love again.
She fell in love again. It was patient,
Kind and gentle. Simple and familiar.
It was friendship. It was perfect.
Maybe too perfect. She fell out of love again.
Love was a burst of colour, a blinding flash of light.
A spark that flew when two stones
Accidentally brushed against each other.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, a fire was lit.
Love was the sea meeting the land.
Not to gently embrace the white sand,
But to crash itself upon the rocky shore.
Impulsive and brazen. All consuming.
Or maybe love was the sand
Waiting to be touched by the sea,
Glowing under the pale moonlight
With a thirst that would never fully be quenched.
Love was the flickering embers in a dying fire,
A brazen reminder of the spark that it once held
Brought back to life with a sudden word, a look, a touch.
Emitting wisps of smoky memories, refusing to die.