Saturday, April 05, 2008

Chicago, A Love Story

It was a cold & misty night,
not unlike tonight,
when my heart was ripped asunder,
painful as a first love's crush,
by the closeness of you.
We stood, orange light casting weird shadows, bare branches in the mist.
We stood, leaning against the harsh concrete of a footbridge,
struggling against the pain of untouchable love,
railing against the unfairness of the human condition and the vagaries of fate.
We stood.

Chicago. Early spring.
When I learned I could still care deeper for another more than life itself;
And the start of the best & worst thing that has ever happened to me in my life.
Portend of soaring heights I'd never known.
Portal to depths from which I've yet to fully escape.

Only love has that kind of power,
to make you eternally grateful for having experienced it,
even while you hold your heart in your hand after it was ripped, still beating, from your chest by that very same love.

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