The Story of Love

Reminiscing my first love.
Young.
With one hand I held tight.
Content.
Decisions came. I chose me.
As the days grew longer
the nights became warmer
my hand perspired.
I let go.

Time past
another love found.
With both hands,
I held on tight.
Happy.
Time ticks. Distance widens.
Weary with each passing minute;
my heart ached each passing hour.
My grip slipped.
Left with one hand shaky and tired.
Again.
My heart in pain.
I let go.

Alone.
Seeking that grip,
yearning for that hold.
Time has traveled long.
Maturity fills my hands strength.
God willing,
I'll never let go.
Again.



Never regret something that once made you happy