It’s difficult to love you sometimes.
Somehow this causes me to forget.
To forget that I love you.
But I do. I do love you.
It isn’t the same as being forgotten.
Can love become muddy?
I suppose that’s why they say,
Our history and tribulations
Resulting in love so opaque
We forget, because we can only see
The mud caked on our eyelids.
There is no way out, but through the mud.
Once we’re done, we need rest
Forgetting all there is chasing after rest.
After we’ve endured the parts that make us so different.
The problems that seem a chasm, do not sever us.
We will always have this thread tying us together.
Even when we can’t see it. It’s there.
Because when you say you love me
I always remember
That I love you too.