Where did the cheapening of love begin?
I asked, as love’s imposters sought to fill
My life with darkness, emptiness, and sin,
For ‘n youth, I never counted love until
It was too late for me. I can’t go back
And change what came to be, nor should I choose
It different now, for if some other track
I took back then, the love I have I’d lose.
But somewhere in my heart of hearts I know
My soul was broken long before she mended
The parts into the man she loves. I go
And wonder still, beyond what I intended,
If love exists in more than I can give
To her, whose soul, with mine, bids me to live.