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Live for, die for

Love once saw himself
in a mirror
and was trapped
by the void
of his own being,
he was all heart
and no head.
It was
an image of himself
that he would
never forget
and ever since that day
you can find him
on dance floors
between partners,
he is the perspiration
on the palms
of two lovers,
the frame
holding the
pictures.
He lives in flowers
and on king size beds,
the static
on the phone
between
long distance lovers.
He relents
on rare occasions
usually
when lust swoons him,
the trickery
of her movements
he can never
resist
and so Love
dies a slow
and misleading
death
one that
pretends
to be alive.
Love
is ashamed
by his
contenders.
He hangs
on the letters in poems
written from
one lover
to another
and even when
the words no longer
ring true,
Love grieves for them
if only they knew.
Love drips off the paint
on canvases,
he once watched
as the eager artist
held the brush
trying to portray
the beauty
of his beloved woman
and Love
would weep
at the devotion
and the accuracy.
Love dwells
in the fabrics
of our
favorite sweaters,
he's at the
bottom of the
old box
filled with letters.
Love is in the tears
that have been
soaked up
by our pillowcases
and when we cry,
he cries ten times harder.
Love is lonely
in the broken locket
between two
smiling faces
who haven't
seen each other
in years
and he rests there
proud of what he created
but embarrassed by
what humans tore apart.
Love doesn't take sides
but he can start wars.
Sometimes
he's gleaming
in the
diamond ring
of the bride
and sometimes
he's a withering rose
resting on a grave.
Crash and burn.
Live and learn.
Love takes
but doesn't earn
he gives
and rarely gets
he forgives
but never forgets
he's an unstable fairytale
a war veteran without a gun
he's the moon
the sun
and the stars
constantly
recreating what we are.
He's all we have
all we need
all that we will ever be.
Love is Love
and Love is Life
the only thing
in this world
that refuses
to go down
without
a fight.

poem by Vanessa Grixti
Added by Poetry Lover
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