You feel, or have felt, the numbing pressure.
The unspeakable things, the things too dark to pull out of the collapsed
corners of your heart.

You know that the pretty words, the pat answers and cliches will never be enough to mend these things. That there are wounds that need more than truth,
losses that need more than condolences and empty assurances of future goodness.

Yet through this you say, "I choose to believe. I choose to serve, and I will remain faithful."

And when my eyes and my heart are closing, because I just don't understand what Love looks like anymore, and is the Love I have been shown only a lie,
or the rumblings of chance
you take me by the arm and spin me around slowly.

"Don't forget, it is all Love, after all."