When Does Love Die

Jill more than a flower loves the sun, more than a child love its mother, or heat loves the fire; I love you.

 

When does love die?

When do you put away the past?

When does your heart stop dying?

 

I have been behind many doors’ wooden ones, metal ones, from comforting, to dreadful each one its own key, each one found in time. My Love you left me behind a door with no handle or hinges, I can’t live alone in the dark.

 

I cannot leave you, staying with you now is lit kerosene in my lungs, you come to me now on the whisper of a song, each sweet bite taking me deeper into the dark; the absence of you.

 

I did not know you when I took that bus, but you knew me better than I had even known myself.

 

The weight of all the would haves, could haves, and should haves bear down on me my Love.