untrained plumbers

love is not a faucet
no tap to shut off
it does not just fade
but is allowed to
become oversaturated
with the minutiae of
the day to day shuffle
until we stop seeing
the shimmering joy
for the speckles of
minor deviations in
color and granular design

we are children with
shiny new scissors
trying to cut the stream
distracted by the rust
forming on the blades
blaming love for the now
pitted iron while ignoring
how life oxidizes every
fleeting thought until
all we have is memory
faded by time weighing
down the buoyancy we felt

with time and age we begin
to feel as if the feelings
are finite and seek to
throttle the flow of feeling
a conservation of this
unlimited potential while
hardening ourselves against
the effects of time itself
leaving our hearts brittle
as cobwebs seize inner workings
and we no longer have the
capacity to embrace love
without the knowledge of
contaminants in our own souls

love is not a faucet
so easily shut off from
the source but an infinite
pool we learn to fear
unwilling to allow ourselves
to be fully submerged
because of frantic scars
that remind us of how
we nearly drowned before

i have become a free diver
lungs the size of quarters
relishing the pressure
as i swim untethered into
the fathomless depths
shedding rust and scabs
to be born anew far below
the surfaces left unscratched
pulled along the invisible
currents to wherever it is
her heart calls me to
uncaring of the impurities
accepting of the magic
inherent in two as
they shine in synchronicity

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