This thing called life.
The peak of it comes with loving, as if a young fleeting spirit took over.
Young love appears to be a construction of symmetrical bricks of multi-colours.
Maybe these bricks are meant to be sparkling diamonds, indestructible.
Tempting, inviting, expensive.
Perhaps, they're made of coal instead.
Smouldering on a barbecue.
Or possibly melting tarmac in a brazier.
Destined to fill fractured cracks.
When love breaks down again.
And then and only then a realisation dawns.
Nothing matters more than friendship.
Stashed the past love memories in the old bedside cabinet.
Get rid of the weight of regret round my neck.
An expanse of smile as a new age dawns.
The clocks roll backwards and you roll forward.
The autumn heads of falling sunflowers, seemingly nodding respect and goodbye to you.
Mourning you no more my only ever love.
(C) Livvi