What starts as passion, preoccupation and obsessive engagement
(when left to mature)
turns into a routine
kept in place by social obligations, co-dependence and private fantasies.
Love, when interrupted in its full bloom
at very least remains as a powerful sensual memory.
I am sad that I lost you when our passions and dreams were so intimately intertwined -
but I am consoled by the knowledge that our beautiful, insanely sexual, preoccupied, all-devouring love
died at its magical peak
and that in its absence
left a hole in my heart that can never be filled by another.
And I am grateful for our love, interrupted,
as I repeatedly revisit its echoes, shadows and images in my mind,
every glance, every taste, every fragrance, every longing second --
It is only in our parting that our love remained untarnished and intact.
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