A Love Poem

Second Chances

You may think you have exhausted love,
run it up and down the romantic stairs
of this infatuation and that curt dismissal
until it is breathless and weak-kneed;
that like a boot camp sergeant in the war
for second chances, you have drug it
one too many times through the mud
of drunken midnight rejection
so that it is ready to quit.
You have to admit: you have taken it
down the road from insult to injury,
ask it to go to the ends of the earth,
only to face the long walk back.
But has it ever failed you?
Has it ever let you down?
Not a chance. Admit it.
Love has toughed it out,
taking your lead
or leading you
as you followed your heart.
Puffy-eyed, hung over,
suffering from another breakfast
of ice cream and cold pizza
and surely deserving
of some time to sleep it off,
love is always there.
Early every morning,
it is up and dressed, on its feet
and out the door of your lonely house
with you running after it,
unsure of where you are headed,
but glad, oh so glad,
to be going.

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