What is love but a souls recognition of ones desired mirror image, ones history forgotten or imagined

carry the infinity and call a truce for one knows the depths of the despair, it’s been written about in endless literature yet the lesson is never learned nor taught 

it is the most powerful and non definable force of this universe and yet it takes but a moment and ones heart is either painfully satisfied or desperately undone

tell her not that it mends, forgive her the distractions that lies between your conversation it does not belong to her she lost the power of it in the depth of the despair

the continuation of time brought explanation from unwanted sources and as she lies on the floor losing her ability to love again they ask of her, why?

she pleads and in her subconscious inner being she is being awoken in the middle of the night over and yet again, time does not repair the despair 

she seeks solace in the imagination of her authorship but alas it is but temporary because the dawning of the sun is here to repeat and rip open the wound of indecision