Jump to content

At Least Love

Faith U

Recommended Posts

I wrote this poem at the beginning of this year. I was at a point where I didn't quite know how I felt about love. I had fallen in love and he had fallen in love with me. So, it only made sense to be in love together, but it wasn't that easy... because of fear. The fear of trying and crashing and burning. The fear of losing love that we hadn't even taken a chance on. But to live a life lead by fear is to not live. 

I decided to live, and at every turn at least love. 


At Least Love


I’ve come to the realization that love is differential.

We all receive differently.
We express differently.
But at least we took the opportunity . . .

To love.

At least we fell in love.

If I never had the chance to see you again,
At least I saw your eyes.
At least I looked deeply and tried to find the way to love you, Even though I cried.
At least we tried.
At least we met. At least we connected.


If I never heard your voice again,
At least I made you smile.
Even when you were mad with me,
At least I drove you wild,
Then gave you the keys and let you freestyle.

At least I didn’t mind,
And when the bells started ringing,
At least we read the signs,

Yield and Stop,

But before that stop, we explored terrains.

At least we won’t be the same.
At least it changed my brain.


If I never had another chance
To touch
On your . . .
Your . . .
Your body ever again.
At least I learned you were a lover and a friend.

At least I found out what love was all about.

At least we shared meals.
At least we met kin.
At least were real to each other,
Even if we can’t mend.

I could never be mad at you . . .
Cause . . .
At least we made love.
Made sparkles.
Made magic.
Made a way to find love.

Brought to life what we imagined.


What’s greater?
The quest to find love or the discovery?
The messages behind love and the recovery?

Maybe experiencing the love of others is what makes us more rounded.
And we need these love experiences.
In love, we were founded.

The greatest disservice we could do to ourselves is not love, or be loved.

At least love.


This poem touched me. I decided to end my novel with it. 

You can read more of my poetry and the works of others in my poetry blog, The Poets' Corner

My personal blog and novel, TRIGGER, can be found at DiaryofFaith.com.




Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
  • Create New...