The death throes of love

 She doesn't appreciate my desire to get to know her afresh.

She doesn't appreciate my memories of her.

Still, she doesn't chase me away.

And that aturds* most of all.

Selfish brash selfcentered vindictive? Capricious?

It hurts. Hard to swallow I guess.

Chance to practice what you preach and to let go of what no longer nourishes.

But these things are so hard to tell.

Futurity, uncertain: oft' outside the shell.

Why do you persist in thinking of her? Thoughts come unbidden. Why entertain?

Let her go, let her go. 

Process: hurts and takes time.

The end goal must be to end the damaging. The unsolicited visitations of feelings and memories may never halt.

That's okay. In such a case, learn to handle it. And this may start with 1.Cut her off.

My hopes colour my interpretations and reinterpretations of her actions, and mine.

All blurs together leaving a sheen of "Oh, twas sublime!"

But was it really? We lionize

Atavistic, atavism 

Rational inquiry romanticism belies.

Rational action 

Brusque autocratic cold inconsiderate? Benign?

What was, becomes? Recidivism. 

Promises recanted unwillingly.  

Will evaporates. The ethereal cycle, the assuredly banished, condensates.

The death throes of love.

*From the Spanish, aturdir, aturdido; here taken to mean 'befuddles' --roughly translated.