Love, Still
I thought that love meant never fighting, meant giving one’s all for the other. But there is jealousy and heartbreak, and resentment. There is insecurity and weaknesses held in confidence and trust broken in anger. There is the disconnect of not understanding, of understanding too much, and hating that in others which we hide and hate in ourselves. There are highs and lows, silence and tears, and days which can wither a bond of years or decades. But if there is still love, if there is hope and patience, there can be renewal. I want to believe that. And will.