I started thinking about it last night while I was doing the dishes. Hands wet and soapy, I kept running the idea in my head. I'm not sure if it is indicative of old age, but I find my thoughts are fleeting. If I do not get them on paper, the likelyhood of losing that idea within a few minutes is pretty damn good.
So, there I am in my apron (Yes, I wear an apron! I don't cook much, but I love my aprons!), washing the dishes, desperately trying to hold on to the idea of how devastating first loves are and the movement, progression from that place in time.
I've seen, heard of, known women who make their partner their sole reason for being and I've always wondered why. Although I've experienced and suffered from the angst of failed relationships, I always believed (Sorry, Gloria Gaynor!) "I will survive".
I hurriedly wiped my hands. Damn! Notebook upstairs. Nearby, a used envelope. Convenient. I wrote.
And the title? After the dishes, we were watching a show about tattoos. There was an ex-gang banger with his eyelids tattooed. What did it say? "No Love Lost". Totally different meaning from what I intended but the words caught me and I had a feeling it would be right. So out came the envelope from my back pocket, and I wrote the title.
This is what I started with to get that poem out.
No Love Lost
Remember pain of
loss of first loves
How pain lessens
with each cheat
Not because gave up
find strength in
I believe in