Between Dates

What do you call the stage  

when your heart kneels quietly before ruin—  

when you look at someone and see the ending  

yet still ache to begin?

When you know the fire will burn  

but you reach for it anyway,  

hoping maybe, just maybe,  

this time, the flames will cradle you  

instead of consume you.

What do you call that moment—  

when love isn't blind,  

but chooses to close its eyes  

and fall anyway?

Maybe it's not a stage.  

Maybe it's a surrender.  

Maybe it's the most beautiful kind of tragedy:  

loving with your eyes wide open,  

knowing it will break you,  

and loving still.