Regardless of our state of mind.
Regardless of religion.
Regardless of race.
We all love and have lost.

Sometimes, we love while losing.
For others, we must love while
being apart, while fearing the unknown,
yet knowing we can't go there.  

It doesn't matter the story,
the pain is the same.
The wait is agonizing.
The mere fact that we know
we'll see them again
keeps us warm in the coldest of nights.

Being the one who was left,
we replay those last minutes,
or even seconds. We avoid
romantic comedies, walks
through the parks, or candlelit dinners.

As the weeks turn to months,
we simply re-learn how to stand.
We take one step. And another.
We learn to live alone.

Romantic comedies are turned on.
Walks in the parks aren't so cold.
Candlelit dinners still seem corny.
And my memories serve as a blanket.