Sometimes, love leaves

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Sometimes you find that love is planted, anchored; it wraps its arms gently around you both, holding you close to grow and grow and grow and explode through the seasons of life until the laws step in to say there aren’t any more seasons for one of you. Love leaves; its gift of songs of happy impermanence, a life lived in moments, echoing through the canyons of your heart and mind.

Sometimes you find love you weren’t looking for. Love you don’t want. But you don’t walk away. It seems compelling, interesting, and provocative. You stay close to it, double parking close to that love with her for a while, wondering what to do with it, with her and if there will be a two of you and as you wonder all this, it’s slipping away, the wondering you’re doing driving a wedge between the two of you. You’re pushing love away and closing her off from you. One day as you ponder parking more permanently with her and with love, you look up from yourself: love’s leaving. And she’s gone.

Sometimes you find love. Right there. Standing beside you. You don’t want it. She doesn’t want it and yet the two of you ignore what you don’t want and explore what you do want with each other. Love stays to play for a while. Then she decides it’s not love at all, just curiosity. She whispers lies or truths — it matters not — and leaves. You wonder if there will be tears. Love turns to you sadly shrugging its shoulders as it packs up, reminding you that you knew better. You nod. Love hands you a battered old book, and you curl up to look at it. Love finishes packing. You are reading pages from Book of I Knew She Would Break My Heart, with its pages of untruths and never-intended and you shake your head at your own foolishness. Love opens a window and leaves as you close the book and close your mind to wondering.

Sometimes you find love somewhere, with her and you stay. She stays. The two of you find love and together you make it a home. And it is good, even as you both know that sometimes, love leaves, even from a good home. And if it leaves, it will leave something; a discovery, a question, a change, a scar, a fear, a hope, a strength, courage, willingness. Love always leaves something.

About FS

Toronto, Canada. Writing about slices of life, the moments and minor details of which come into awareness or out of imagination and the spaces inbetween. On hiatus from writing ... at least for now.
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6 Responses to Sometimes, love leaves

  1. T says:

    I’ve been letting this post rattle around in my head for the past couple of days. I find this idea that love leaves something behind rather beautiful – and comforting too; it feels like the first step towards a new state of calm.

    • FS says:

      Thank you for stopping by :-). Rattling, beautiful, comforting and calm — all sound so incredibly good, and alive.

  2. natasiarose says:

    😦 It’s always sad when love is over.

  3. makingspace1 says:

    Oh my god. The last line. I’m cryin’ here. Thank you so much for all the beauty in this post.

  4. bookishbutch says:

    Ah, love…’tis a many splendored thing, complex, complicated. We write so many words about it
    and have since the dawn of time, but, what do we really know about? That life without it,
    is hollow and colourless? That when we have ‘it’ our hearts sing with joy, and beat with excitement
    and perhaps?? Fear of losing it, but, love must be accompanied by hope and trust, don’t you think?

    • FS says:

      Dear BB: Yes and Yes, and Yes. To all of it. Although maybe it’s a simple thing and we — those of us who partake in this thing called love — complicate it overly much. It’s a pure thing until it becomes contaminated by, oh all sorts of stuff, including as you mention, an absence of hope and trust, and willingness and oh, good choice of partner to explore the love thing. BB, as ever, I think that your thoughts have inspired yet more words. So, more to come ;-).

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