The Worn Highway of Love

The highway that is love, traveled too often,
is worn by wheels that have rarely softened.
Through the flow of the befallen, a gouge has formed,
a scar in the earth where hearts have stormed.

Steep cliffs now line the perilous road,
where once lush fields of passion flowed.
The path is marked by echoes of pain,
each turn a reminder, each mile a strain.

Fewer exits remain, they've crumbled away,
lost to the tremors of love's decay.
The trembling sympathies that once flowed free
now trickle like streams into a darkened sea.

The tunnels are long, and the light grows thin,
as travelers question where they begin.
For love, once easy and wild to embrace,
is now a journey through a shadowed place.

The highway is cracked, with potholes deep,
memories hidden where secrets sleep.
Yet we drive on, despite the cliffs,
seeking a solace that forever shifts.

Each mile we travel, the road grows rough,
the bends get sharper, the exits more tough.
For love is a road that rarely forgives,
leaving behind the ghosts of what lives.

But still we venture, despite the fear,
hoping for something to make it clear—
that even through cliffs, through darkness untold,
there lies a love that’s worth the toll.

So steer your heart, hold fast the wheel,
navigate the scars, the wounds you feel.
For though the highway is steeped in pain,
the journey of love is never in vain.