Couldn't Love Us Better
I fall in love with souls, not faces.
I was not made for symphonies,
nor for chasing bright places.
I look at the flowers of spring and call them dull,
hear the cooing of birds and call it music.
It does not matter to me—
the hue of a flower,
the flutter of a butterfly,
whatever shape you wear—
beautiful or plain, tall or small.
Your soul is moonlight
resting upon a cold lake—
an ocean gathered in a puddle.
I could not have loved you better
for your looks alone.
I fall in love with faces, not souls.
You drew me in with the sculpture of perfection,
every curve of your face a quiet glamour.
It was not mere attraction
that set my heart ablaze,
but the promise of a future
sleeping inside your eyes.
And the tenderness of your lips on mine—
enough to loosen the grip of sanity.
I imagined the life we would carry together,
as though we were sworn to do or die.
Wherever the road might bend,
I would rise again beside you—
a lover, a knight.
My moon and my stars,
my canvas of constellations.
I would become every bright place,
just as you were light to me.
But perhaps I fall in love
with neither souls nor faces.
Souls cannot always mend
the emptiness of another.
I am hollow still,
and your fingertips hold no warmth—
as though affection were stolen
by the quiet tides of time.
Souls are haunted by forever,
wandering lonely
like the pale shine of my tired eyes—
where love becomes a cheap currency
and companionship a chain
fastened by forgotten promises.
Still, it does not matter
whether the beautiful ones are yet born.
You were the most beautiful thing
I had ever seen.
Yet you faded—
like a merchant’s false jewel,
glittering only for a moment
before truth revealed the metal beneath:
bright perhaps,
but without the promise of love.
You could not have loved me better.
All we dreamed
are now memories
that haunt my forever.
We were written for goodbyes—
a tragic play
that never found its ending.
So move on.
There is nothing left for us.
I saw the end
before we ever began.
And if you remember anything,
remember this—
I loved you.
Enough
to let you go.
W