Poetry

Love as matter

Love, as matter,
cannot be created,
nor destroyed.
We were born in it,
sometimes unfulfilled,
but never without it.
Filled to the edge
of our souls with love,
we spend our whole lives
trying to pour it out
into someone who loved
a little too much,
a little too late,
too much for some,
and now is left
a little emptier than before.
Or someone,
who loved a little less.
Or someone,
who isn’t ready to be whole.
Love is like matter.
Although one cannot
create it or destroy it,
sometimes it can destroy us.
And in other definitions,
love creates us,
elaborates and builds us
from fragments of our hearts
that have become too small
to be picked up
while we were collecting
our broken parts
after emotional destruction.
We put them together
to create something new,
for someone special,
to experience that mosaic
as something soothing and wonderful
to keep it under their pillow
and hides it from others.
It’s something not to be given,
something that’s selfishly guarded.
We give, sometimes it’s not reciprocated.
We try, often in vain.
But we know we gave everything.
Indestructible, like energy,
we are wasting like sand
between finger spacing.
Whoever catches our emotion, is happy.
We fight against everyone,
and often no one is fighting for us.
And, we don’t have to fight alone for love.
And I’ll tell you something else.
In the end, it doesn’t matter
whether love is similar to things or not.
Was it spent
where it will be born again,
or given only to be taken,
not returned.
Love is essential.
It creates us,
it breaks us, but also unites us.

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