On loving

I have loved

In the clasp of busy days

And tired nights

I have loved

In the middle of misunderstandings

At the peak of angry summits

In the bosom of silent valleys

I have loved

In the vestiges of conversation,

And silences of unheard ideas

In the corners made up of unsaid words

In the lullaby of lonely nights

In the creases of unopened letters

I have loved

Between dog-eared pages of old books

Upon the smell of your spice box

I have loved

Over broken furniture

And coffee cup rings

Among the lines of

Unread poems

I have loved –

a painful,

everlasting

futile kind of love..I have loved.

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