NaPoWriMo 9

What Love Cannot Do


It cannot save itself
when it expires
like a tire’s slow leak.
It cannot bring back
the greediness of youth,
mouth on mouth, skin on skin,
that gnawing, that longing
you carried until the next time,
and then there is no next time.
You never see it coming
but always see it leaving.
It waits by the door, bags packed,
full of the stones from your life.
What it can do is mark the distance
between Point A and Point B,
which feels a galaxy,
every star you ever wished upon
imploding before your eyes.