It's amazing to me peeking out around the clich?s about love: "Love is all you need," "Love will keep us together," "Love is blind," to discover that it's the real love: the sometimes grief stricken, sometimes argument inducing, sometimes storming off into separate corners, sometimes wondering about your fate together love is the love that's redeeming me. It's an ugly little animal you rescued from the street, who needs a lot of attention, but once you feed it and give it a bath and pet its head, you witness a beautiful rebirth and you gain trust and you find a loyal friend.
This was love at first sight, love everlasting: a feeling unknown, unhoped for, unexpected-in so far as it could be a matter of conscious awareness; it took entire possession of him, and he understood, with joyous amazement, that this was for life.
And I write this to you my dear For your eyes alone I'm out of heart and these tanks are low So cast your days to flame and set your phoenix to flight Let her turn to ash among these fluorescent lights Let your love drift deeper let her wings catch the sky Just remember my name, girl and remember what died
The gift of memory is an awful curse, with age it just gets much worse.