Love on Christmas Eve.

Somewhere deep in my bones the same loss waits.
Every loss is like the first time over again – painfully raw. unrelenting. Im involuntarily confronted by these feelings, stranding me back in that dark sea of melancholy and desperate need.
all my love could not save you.
What does that say about my love? Or love in general? Or the fanatic belief that love will conquer all?
How can I believe in the power of love, when in my most desperate moments love failed me?
How can I stand to listen to dreamers who preach the word of love yet they never experienced the anguish of failed faith in love?

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