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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A poem about a glimpse of love at the end of the road.

Do you remember this bridge,
where we first met? I do.
You were wearing blue, my
favorite hue, and though I
sneered at your lack of style,
I think I liked you.
Do you remember this café,
where I invited you for
morning coffee? I was loud,
and your hands were shaking.
The sky was cloudy, and a
lone bird was singing.
What, truly, is love? Is it a
sudden sharp pain to the chest?
A melting sensation, like a
slab of butter in the scorching heat
of the sun? Or perhaps it is merely the
realization that someone else
besides yourself exists in this world…
Whatever the case, I no longer
have it—and we’re back at the
bridge again, aren’t we, for this
inevitable ending. Because no matter
the definition, love is a circle with
the pretence of a jagged square.
Now, as I stand here, watching the murky
water underneath flow away from me,
I come up with the excuse for my
failed romance:
I wasn’t ready.

Submitted: February 16, 2010

© Copyright 2021 Elly Bee Louie 1990. All rights reserved.

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