Love Enough

dried flowers

 

You were there when I came home

Smiling, but distant and uncertain

What was it that made me end the play

Bring down the final curtain?

 

We never knew that it would end

But each silence was a clue

I cried when you said you knew it was done

It was all I could do for you.

 

Chorus:

Sometimes love isn’t quite enough

You gave and I gave

But the taking was rough

Sometimes love’s not enough

 

When we met we knew there were rifts

That we though our love would cross

But what do you do when the rifts remain

And compromise is lost?

 

You were gone when I got back

From your bittersweet note I could see

That you meant us never to meet again

It was all you could do for me.

 

Chorus:

Sometimes love isn’t quite enough

You gave and I gave

But the taking was rough

Sometimes love’s not enough

 

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What’s The Point?

Via Erin’s Clishmaclaver

Too often, ‘what’s the point?’ played in the background of her mind like a song on an endless loop. It was there when she did the dishes, made the bed, picked up the mail. When absorbed in a task, it disappeared only to attack at an oblique angle when she was enjoying the satisfaction of finishing. ‘What’s the point?’ bled away the satisfaction, leaving a sad blankness in its place.

The only time it was ever completely silent was when she fed the animals. Dog and cat faces turned her way, intent on her every move; dog and cat bodies either still or tails thumping in anticipation. Once in a while, there would be a vocalization; a whisper woof or a quiet mew said with face turned away or looking down. That was as close as they ever came to asking and she knew that if she didn’t feed them, they would not be disappointed. They would wait, hopeful, but not demanding. When she looked at them, waiting to be fed, touched, loved, she always knew what the point was.