/ləv/

I have studied love in an ancient archive
when I found the book that held love's name
and brushed the cobwebs from it's cover
I found only words I could not recognize
a script in foreign tongue, unutterable.

I did not measure the days of dull despair
by the slowly shifting tides of tradition
nor phases of moon, or spinning of stars.
No expiration date for a tortured heart.

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