Phytochrome

It's not the loss of love that's difficult

It's a loss of sight

A mass that grows blindly

Into a mess that cannot be untangled

And eyes that cannot find

Where love exists

We unfolded into different lives

The distance uncurling like a bud to bloom

Or like tessellated branches of a blind canopy

Casting fractured shadows on what grew beneath

And obscuring shared roots in soils of despair

The past receding in the growing shade

Allowing for the transformation of structure

Phytochrome, the way light can reshape the form.

I'm left to wonder

Was it my light that changed you?

Or was there ever a change at all?

Blame it on my corrosive soul

Blame it on maturing minds

Blame it on nothing at all

It takes strength to give away something you never owned

Love, though hidden, never truly fades

Like stars unseen by day, still burning bright

It lingers like morning light

It’s in the cracks, the scars, the moments of doubt

And even under transformation

Through-lines remain unbroken

Whether we are as far as roots are to its leaves

Or as close as a rose is to its thorns

A connection that endures for selfless gain

Is proof of The Miracle of Love