Here is the thing about love:
In the beginning, the world is new.
You have a spring in your step
And that secret smile, too.
But then storm clouds roll in.
It starts raining on your parade.
Rust grows on an abandoned life
And settles on the ground where you lay.
Memories start littering the floor,
Scattered like autumn leaves.
You walk on them one by one.
Each one a heart on both sleaves.
You walk along that forsaken bridge,
Sit alone on that isolated bench.
You stand under those once loved trees
As your stomach starts to wrench.
Then bitter winter winds
Start to blow your hair around,
But it fails to match that icy cold
That deep inside your being is found.
J. Cross
P