Love Wasted

Mila D. Aguilar


Love can be killed
so easily,
nick after
painful nick.
Marveling at each drop of blood
as it clusters round
some blade of grass,
adding color
to the greenery,
you fail to see
the paling of the victim,
until the nicks become
one great big wound
surpassing healing.
And then the love,
it goes so easily.


Love’s not
some substance
you can manufacture.
Nor a person that can be
It flows,
like blood
in veins and arteries
and capillaries

That is why
a cut can make it
flow out so
and a thousand cuts
can waste it.
I speak not only
of strange, personal loves,
you hear,
but the greater love
of men and women
for the things they hold
most dear.