Traces

He wooed her with kisses,
words of perversion, and looks of warmth.
He held her aloft and would not relent
in his optimism.
Her thoughts were of meadows and
dark alleys, each with its own terrors
and comforts.
She said, “love is a renewable resource”
when they declared their feelings,
sure he would understand
the concept of her eternity
in a world full of temporary tattoos
and drive-through funerals.
He said he loved her too, more than
rain or sun or any weather phenomenon.
True love is like that. Force beyond nature.
After the storm, tread lightly
for there are always traces
of something left behind.

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