Remember when you first felt the electricity

as if it were burning your soul?

Your lover was perfect. You were perfect.

As time moves forward, your love may turn into something very different. Change is the only constant in life. Why not experience a change in how you and your lover feel and how you treat each other?

As time moves forward, as it will, things change. It need not be a bad thing; your love may take on new meaning.

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It is inevitable.

Years upon years change us as individuals, it is appropriate that our relationships change right along with time. Normal. Natural.

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Will it ever have that intensity again? I think so.

It may come in waves, but it does overpower us if we allow it.

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The times in between may be sweeter in a new way.

Then we discover each other once more–we absorb our memories–our former heat.

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…..

What Happens?

What happens to us as young lovers

when first our bodies touch?                                                          

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Does the sky open up, 

fill our hearts with endless possibility?                                               

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How long does the metamorphosis 

affect our hearts and souls with                                                          

 

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showers of unguarded bliss and

twisting, swirling, juices of love?                                                      

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Does that electricity continue

coursing through our bodies

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lighting up the darkest nights?

When we young lovers kiss, caress,                                                 

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laugh and dance, does the pleasure

spill over into other people’s lives?                                                

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But where do we find satisfaction when

we no longer inject love’s drug?                                                       

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When it happens that youth’s

passion has been suspended; years later                                                

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do our dreams reach a climax before they

dissolve? Is there an ugly scar where                                         

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love’s hallucination lived? Or does the memory 

of ecstasy erase the pain of shattering

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our solemn promise of love’s fantasy?

What becomes of ardor when it’s ripped from

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our hearts and tossed aside without mercy?

Will the trash collector be required to                                             

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handle it gently as he puts our spoils

in the truck with the other garbage?                                                

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Must our love dry up and scatter to the wind?

Instead can we place it on a high shelf where                                        

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it can rest and wait to be rekindled and

reassembled when we need it again?                                                        

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Can the imagination of our youth transpose itself?

Will a new arrangement satisfy                                                 

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expectations of our earlier devotion?

Can love from long ago be solidified in                                                        

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later years once time and troubles have

blended enough for tenderness to resume?                                                

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Perhaps our craving will reappear to 

immerse us once more with love’s narcotic  

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