Love is easy

To love is easy.

To let yourself be loved is harder.

As I rehash old love letters of lovers before

I’m left wondering what all of that was for

As I read about the person I used to be, I wondered where she went.

Is she lost, or did she never really exist

At what point can I really understand the truth of the past

When I can’t even remember the lives before

I want to scream as an arm embraces me.

I look into his eyes and am convinced it happened for a reason.

So I could be with him tonight.