When first we faced

When first we faced, and touching showed
How well we knew the early moves,
Behind the moonlight and the frost,
The excitement and the gratitude,
There stood how much the meeting owed To other meetings, other loves.

The decades of a different life
That opened past your inch-close eyes
Belonged to others, lavished, lost;
Nor could I hold you hard enough
To call my years of hunger-strife
Back for your mouth to colonize.

Admitted: and the pain is real.
But when did love not try to change
The world back to itself -- no cost,
No past, no people else at all --
Only what meeting made us feel,
So new, and gentle-sharp, and strange.

- Philip Larkin

I've been following musician Chris Blake on Twitter and he put me onto the poem you've just read. It's one of those things that's so profound, so sad, so true that you stop breathing for a moment.

And then you do.

Photo by Luca Tettoni from Corbis