Unfinished but Not Incomplete

by bonnie azoulay in


Old Love,

Where does it go? 

When it's been used up

When you can no longer

Patch up the holes

When you've said your farewells

To the love you's

and the kisses

And all the little things

Like the smell of his car

 

Where does it vanish to?

Does it get scattered

Up in the clouds 

Or does it get stored

Up in ‘The Cloud’

The one technology uses

To save old photos 

With permanent smiles

Where love doesn’t seem

to be an old memory

 

Old love gets shuffled in with old books

Old books that you’ve never finished

Left alone among dusty bookshelves.

 

You eventually find new books

To read

You find new people

to love.

Feeling like you’re cheating on

Old books

and old love

That were never finished.

 

Just because you didn’t get to the last page

Doesn’t mean the book held any less value

Just because your feelings didn’t last forever

Doesn’t mean the love was any less than it was.

It was unfinished but not incomplete.

 

Old love dies when you let it go

When you wake up one morning

And decide,

To stop looking for his smell