If you think about it: love is only a word

created in the space where language fails
like a hammer that misses the nail,

when we are so sure we would hit the mark,
that with passion's blind conviction we embark

on a quest as if it were our doom,
and as the hammer falls from much ado--

our words miss and left hanging
crestfallen
we reach back longing
to where this err was begotten
but alas
what to say
but that it's done with.