Pitfalls of the Past, Flaws of the Future

If you know all of a woman's flaws, everything that's wrong with her, and yet just looking at her ignites something in your soul - even if she broke your heart, even if the tears you once cried, you thought would never cease - yet you can't seem to help but look into her eyes and long to grab her close, hold her tight to you and never stop kissing her – if no matter how good you feel without her, you still, after all this time, for the life of you miss her - is that love? Is that a sign that all is not well, that you should run to her and make things right? Or is it simply a wish for a familiar past in the wake of an uncertain future? Is it simply a cry for what you know, what you remember and call home? Or is it indeed something of note, something heralding a true need? Is tempestuous history, known, better than the potential for calm in uncharted waters ahead? Or is it that no matter how long, how far back one tries to go, one walks ever side by side with the inexorable march of time? Back, boon and bane - a return to confessed comfort, back, a step yet forward, unto a consoling cage. Forward, future and fate - choice and chance; forward, a fear, a fright - clouded and crepuscular.