What happens to love old and new

that you tuck beneath the bills and the tasks

that bleed a little with a song or a sight

that stays with you

yet is not quiet yours nor hers or his

what happens to love old and new

pickled in jars of expectation

a longing, a forlorn expression

a waiting for what is not to be

seasoned with time

and the timelessness of hope

what happens to love old and new

sitting in the corners of your heart

staying young as you grow old in your head

that breaks out in a stifled sigh

or a rapturous laugh

or a tear that ran down your cheek

what happens to love old and new

bottled in prime

not yet let out

for it might break

you more than anything else

a tug, a pull, a sigh, a lost look

what happens to love old and new

that you slipped beneath the bed

into to a pillow cover

between the dusty books in the living room

below the sanity of living

does it sleep with you or live you sleepless?