We still feel it. It does not stop. That moment when your heart floods, swells. It matters not that the beloved is no longer in your aspect or that the beloved has been lost to you. Your heart swells with utter conviction, rounding and full as the day you fell.
So his hand does not brush the hair back from your brow or cup your chin; so she does not place her cool hand on the back of your neck or frame your chin with her soft palms; the loud laughter in an empty living room as if someone else was there - she is there/he is there; in the morning in the crook of your neck, in the small of your back, the space waits. The beloved voice, "You can do this," "Everything the same," "Don't worry," and "I love you. I love you. I love you."
Lost love is still love - still - ever - always.
2 comments:
I got chills reading one, Mary, absolutely true and so beautifully written, gazing through clear water at the truth,,,,so simple yet such artfulness to render that clarity and simplicity. WOW. A fan.
Thank you, Susan. Today I am singing Joni Mitchell's "All I Want." Not sure if that is progress or not.
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