Valeria

It’s easy to write poems when you’re moved,

Or to spite old friends when feeling heartbreak.

It’s simple to write songs as the sun sets.

When moonlight shines in eyes it might be proved

That love is blind, and it’s then that it is

Easiest to say you love; no regrets.

But where is love in betrayal,

And where is love in forgiveness?

Where is love in that argument,

Or in the patience that aught to follow?

When is it that we look beyond hubris

To the soul, the to heart, and their isthmus?

Is love not admittance, to surrender

To humility and swallow our pride?

The greatest hardships of love are perhaps

Its greatest gift, which humbles as we fall,

It reminds us of when we should collapse.

We are not for grandeur, we are not all.