Love is a tension,
and it sits at edges.
alwaya wanted,
sometimes fraught,
promising dissolution
as its pulled back
from the cliff.

We need it,
churning with desire,
but it is fire that can
be douced and
become cold and
wet with nothing
left but ashes.

How rare it is for
love to sit easy across
years and the fire
to remain and the
edges smoothed
till nothing hurts
but being apart.

 

15/7/2023