Does Love Live Here?

C 2002

We seldom speak anymore save idle chit cat
to avoid uncomfortable silence.  Our lips have forgotten
the wonder of intimate touch.  Our hearts haven’t raced the way they did
since they were overtaken by complacency.

To live a day as if it’s the last, how would that day go?  
Would we die in an embrace or give last breath to accomplish a final deed?  
One seldom plans for death; thus dying�"leaving a love behind
to wonder if love lived here.  

Love without passion isn’t love at all.  Does love live here?  
I’ve seen only tumbleweed lately, and what appears to be
a ghost town of broken hearts; two people estranged from one another;
two ships in the night passing without notice.  

Does love live here?  I ask because you hold the key.  
I gave you my heart for safekeeping; yet,
it seems you’ve misplaced it, or intentionally put it away
to be used only occasionally.
 
Stop; oh love, for just a moment.  Share with me how you truly feel.  
If we are to stop this emotional tailspin, we must share all that we feel.  
To continue as we are would be suicide; there would be little left to save.  
Yet, with a gentle kiss and stoke of my hair, our love could live again.