Seated beside a dim lit window,
Rain patters steadily
As a young woman pondered
Thoughts so curious as
The rain fell to her window

"Would you rather,"
The young woman began to ask,
To wonder aloud,
"feel only pain, or only feel love?"

"You cannot feel love
Without pain,"
Replied a voice,
Soft yet worn,
Scarcely above a whisper,
"so it is an impossible question to answer."

The woman simply raised her eyebrows
A fine response indeed,
"I suppose so."
She ponders for a moment,
"But," she asks,
"must there always be pain with love?"
Before a response can be given,
An added thought escapes her lips,
"And can there be love in pain?"

A pause, a moment to contemplate,
Then, once assured, a response;
"There mustn't always be pain in love,
Nor must there always be love in pain."
Another pause, a sigh,
"But, whenever I was in love,
I always wound up in pain of sorts.
It is rather difficult to place into words,
harder to explain than
One would have someone believe."
The voice elaborated,
Remaining ever unseen
Perhaps a voice of the mind,
Nevermore for her to find.

- Jay M
April 20th, 2022