When does love
Turn to like?
Is it in an instant,
Triggered by an incident,
A specific event
That you can recall
And remember forever?
Something they did
That disappointed you,
Or, perhaps, more likely,
Something you did
That offended them.
Was it all the things
You did
Or is it more gradual,
A long unwinding,
An erosion,
Like water on the rock
That you thought
Would never wear?
And does it only end in like?
Does love diminish
Even more than that?
When there is nothing,
No feeling at all,
Is that the very end?
Is that terminal?
Or is that
Just how it is?
Is that how love really is?
A process of decay,
A natural law,
A divine mystery.
At the beginning,
You cannot see an ending.
At the end,
You cannot understand
The beginning.

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