it must have been a year ago
that we sat in the cafe
and he told me his story of love
gone wrong.
and i listened to him tell me
why his complicity in betrayal
was legitimate:
‘love always wins’,
he said,
and everything in me wanted to say,
‘it doesn’t.’
This is the sum of my hard won wisdom:
all the poetry in the world
which invokes love’s inevitability
does not speak it’s truth.
And i say that out of fear and promise,
that if we don’t know love’s fragility
we will crush every chance it has
to live.
