To say that you love only once
Is to lie.
Each day, I fall in love
With some stranger’s eyes.
With the charismatic leader’s words,
With the joy in a mother’s face,
And the curiosity in the infant’s.
These short-lived spells of rosy hues
Reinstate my belief
In the existence of the concept of love
In a way
That countless love songs and poetry cannot.
It is not that love comes only once;
It is that we all have a void
So deep in us
Looking for its pair,
To fill the jigsaw puzzle
Each time this spell is cast.
And it is this void
That can be filled only once
In one lifetime.
I wasn’t intending on starting with a topic so clichè, but you have to start somewhere. I promise that love poems aren’t what I always write about.