Process of Love
You hold my love in your hands
Over the bottomless pit of loneliness.
Gracefully teasing it, dropping it, retrieving it.
Like playing with a shiny red yo-yo.
But one day you won't catch it.
One day the string will break.
And my love will fall, with it I shall too.
Only to be caught again. Not by you,
But my the hands of another
To repeat the process of love again.
