L'amore va avanti.

I found Love in northeastern Italy. 

It was a small town with churches and mosaics.

Love was sitting there, at a humble table with two chairs.
Only one was filled.

I walked over with this one thought: when will I ever have the opportunity to question Love again?

I asked, politely, if I could please take a seat. 

Love, with one hand under its chin, gestured at me to sit.

Damn.

Love was exhausted.

The circles under its eyes and the hunched shoulders said it all.

It was devastating to see something so real, so beautiful, and so powerful, 

look so beaten.

Choosing my words carefully, I wondered to Love if I could maybe ask a few questions.

I quickly explained that I just wanted to know a few who's, and whys, and how's.

Love responded by saying,

"I will answer what I can."

So I started with a simple why. 

"Why, Love, can you be so painful?"

Love said it cannot grow to it's full potential without a little misery.

So then I asked,
"Do you always have good intentions?"

Love told me, "Always."

I asked who had made Love so sad.

This brought a small smile to Love's face. 

Love looked me in the eyes and said,

"I am not sad. I am worn.

 I have been used, broken, abused, mended, and manipulated. 

I have been rekindled. 

I have felt the most magnificent joys and the most crushing heartbreaks.

 I have helped bring about miracles, and I have also caused destruction and death. 

I have no limits and there is no scale to embody me. 

Some hate me. Some obsess over me. Some are scared of me. 

Almost everyone, at one point or another, wishes I did not exist. 

I am selfish and selfless.

 I am indescribable. 

I am imperfect.

I am tired."

We sat in silence.

The time ticked by while I pondered what I had been told.

As dusk approached, Love stood.

 It looked at me with knowing eyes. 

I asked Love what it was going to do now. 

Love told me it would continue on, as it always had.

Love told me it understood the consequence of its absence.