Love is severe.

“The last thing one discovers in composing a work is what to put first.”
― Blaise Pascal, Pensées

It comes to this.
The final kiss.
The bargain sealed.
The life revealed.

The silence rings
so loud you wince
and it is always
“ever since.”

What now, what now?
the ego cries,
now that I’m gone,
who will ask why?

You’re not really gone.
You never were here.
Nothing is infinite,
Love is severe.

Vicki Woodyard

Comments welcomed....