But love is like poetry. Like verse. And even the blankest
of verse has some metre, some rhythm, something to
measure it by. The champagne must fl ow at a patient
pace in order to intoxicate and sustain itself in the nerves
of those who drink it.
Whoever thought love is a free verse was wrong.
Free verse itself was never free. I am teaching myself to
love with patience, to love in moderation, in a manner
that my love can sustain itself.
From Lovers Like You and I