It lives as an obligation, this love,

an obligation for those moments when you forget,

when the world gets a little too cold some days, and it slips away,

the obligation, a reminder, so later you won’t regret.

It is an obligation, those days,

obligatory walks and obligatory talks for until when,

you remember again

the simple feeling you still can’t find the words for,

the overwhelming goodness on the right rainy days,

the rare moments when it doesn’t slip away.

But every other time it is an obligation,

obligatory like it is to walk,

obligatory like it is to talk,

to pull yourself day after day,

’till the next

time it rains.