love, release, repeat

Sometimes the universe gives you a Missouri license plate

and buries a part of your heart in Kansas City,

so deep down that you can never retrieve it.

You'll feel the edges it leaves behind,

when you hear a certain song

or see a Chiefs sticker on the back of a car.

You will never get it back

and that hole will never fill.

But there will be new hearts that beat in tune with yours

and hands that hold you 

and cook you food

and give you jars of soup and bags of mint and rosemary

and point the way when you cannot see it

and make you feel loved like you've never felt loved before.

And pretty soon, you will find yourself breathing in the air

and exhaling every part of your heart into the sky.

Knowing that one day, 

those bits you are leaving behind, 

those parts you crave to give anew

those new spaces in your heart

will remind you how beautifully costly it was to love this way.

And the whole dance will begin again 

and again 

and again.

Love, release, repeat.