344/365: Romeo and Juliet Might Have Accidentally Gotten It Right

How can we have found each other
only to have our destinies remain the same?
Something about the turn of love
makes death seem impossible.

I walked on my knees before I found you.

And yet, if we make it to the end of one of us,
the other will live to grieve.
How can this be?
Nothing, not even love, is free.

I keep counting on my fingers
as though the math will stop coming out wrong,
as though one of us will never have to kiss the other's cheek
the way I saw my grandmother kiss my grandfather's
while we waited for the air to leave his body.

not even love,
is free.

I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.