on wings of song
love is a prison.
an artfully crafted one,
cushioned with affection,
memories,
attachment,
but a prison neverthless.
gilded cages for songbirds.
unthinkable to break out of
as long as we remain in it.
love makes willing prisoners
of us all.
leading with sweet promises
of forever,
“perhaps in an alternate universe,
i can imagine life without you.
but in this one,
we are meant to be together.”
fond glances under starlight,
burning embers of passion,
shared glances filled with mirth.
falling out of love always
seems a little too incredulous
a possibility.
i wonder about how people
grow apart.
do they let cracks appear?
or is it just blindness
until the chasms are too wide to fill?
love makes us hold on tighter
than usual,
and it often takes a step back
to see that the other person
is struggling to breathe.
i wonder if you can fall out of love
while conversing.
let indifference and boredom
settle in the spaces between
your fingers.
so the next time someone
reaches for your hand,
you flinch away.
maybe it is a disappearance.
a photo,
two people standing side by side.
stop motion,
one fades away.
the sunset does not change.
you move on.
until the next person comes along,
and makes you feel the same way.
fool me once,
fool me twice.