Love, that’s taken for granted!

Love that’s taken for granted. 
Does not die an immediate, clean death. 
It persists, chokes, gasps and hopes. 
Staring into the dark, searching for a stray ray,
That might show the way through the chasm. 

Love, that’s taken for granted. 
Does not realise that sometimes a star-less gap in the night sky;
Is because of a blackhole. 
That exists in stealth-mode. 
Not letting any shred of goodness get past it. 
Not even of hope. Or destiny. 

Love, that’s taken for granted. 
Forgets that once there were signs and symptoms,
Long before there was apathy and neglect. 
Or excuses and de-prioritisation. 
Long before there were arguments that deserved a discussion. 
And silences that deserved the cushion of companionship. 

Love, that’s taken for granted. 
Has nowhere to go. 
Except inwards. 
And scratch and burn and cut and bruise. 
As it digs deep. 
But eventually rest, with rest of the regrets. 
And emerge never again. 

Love, that’s taken for granted. 
Is the soil on which will grow. 
Tomorrow!