Where does Love go once it’s gone?

Where does Love go once it’s gone?

Does it sit still in plaintive contemplation
between the neat folds of the window drape or does it peer from behind the blinds waiting to be taken in?

Does it tirelessly walk up and down the treacherous bent, abandoned , sulking at night or lie pressed like the thin veined petal between the pages I’ve marked, the verses I’ve read and re-read with you on my mind?

With nowhere to go , does love confine itself inside the bottle of my favourite mist, a gift on Christmas Eve and die silently with each spray?

Once love breathes it’s last , does it fasten itself with strong straps and properly habited in ‘pumpkin suit’, launch off to the distant moon?

Or, at the very moment retrace it’s path and fall back to the bootless pit of the malignant heart?

Does Love still live in the soft ripples of the forest pool created with each dying leaf?

Or poof!

Does it cease to exist?

Like the dense smoke that bellows out the chimney top , only to realise it’s transience under the boundless sky.

Where does Love go once it’s gone?

Β© Wordpolitics

40 thoughts on “Where does Love go once it’s gone?

  1. So damn wonderful.. Love doesn’t go out, it stays like an Asp, like thorns of the desert cactus, like the burn from a smouldering furnace. Love turns sour, curdles bitter, it gives the worst blisters and just when you feel you are healing the damn snake triggers poisonous darts in the blood stream turning you ashen and blue. It’s venom leaves only when enters a lover new.

    Liked by 6 people

    1. Oh wow! Reading this was so beautiful. You are so good with words. Thank you so much for sparing a moment to read.
      I must say it literally gave me chills reading your response.β™₯️

      Liked by 1 person

  2. How absolutely wonderful! Your words are like a captivating, creative mirror in which people each glimpse the condition of their own heart. For me, she retreats in hurt silence to the hidden corners of my heart where she waits in everlasting hope of hearing the voice of her true beloved, whose love is purer than fine silver, sweeter than honey from the comb, willing to give his very life, and stronger than the cords of death.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thanks a lot craig. How beautiful are these words now! Loved the poetic description of how she hides there in the corners if your heart waiting to be chaperoned.
      Thank you for sparing a moment to read mine

      Liked by 2 people

  3. wonderfully wrought poem! For me love never strays far -it is a shadow that follows and mirrors my every movement. Even in the darkness when you think love has died, it shadows the soul…

    Liked by 3 people

  4. I love this poem. You have captured the experiences of love, joy, sadness, its unexpectedness, elusiveness and playfulness. So skillfully written. I enjoyed ready it very much.

    Liked by 4 people

  5. Love does not go nor leave. Love when used the more it grows. Love when accepted with openness and willingness flourishes like the lily in the field. But when rejected it evaporates like perfume on a sweaty body…… Where it goes, a clue I don’t have. But I’d rather plant my love seed where it is accepted.

    Wonderful piece sis. Couldn’t help but share a bit.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Well done. The noble question of Love perplexes though a saving joie de vivre inheres your words. The lovely tree in fall doldrums kills its own leaves and lets their souls die in the ground beneath as if it’s given up on the Summer’s love. As words are symbols without their own life, needing the dreamer to exist, so too are the solemn drapes, and the thin veined petal, the names of sorrow.


  7. good line of questions and reasoning, good expressionism. i love that love can be so varied, and help us remember. it gives us the whole slew and variety of life’s own mysteries. your poem reminded me a lot of one by Langston Hughes, actually πŸ™‚ Cool



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