First love never dies

First love never dies. Even when you try to kill it with practicality, time and distance, it persists. Just the cadence of a voice over the phone line and the distance and time falls away and all that is left is memory. Memory selective;not sullied by historical accuracy. No memory of infidelity and disregard challenges the utopian recollection where the relationship existed without anger or harsh words.Rose colored remembrances wherein we have no inkling of how we let the love of our lives get away. The ache never leaves. The grass looks greener from our vantage point. Life looks emptier at the sound of that voice. What seemed acceptable only hours before now looks cheap and tawdry. Memories of what could have been consume. Hours of productive time lost to recalled lovemaking so passionate that you can't imagine that you survived. Echoes in our eardrums cause us to assess and replay the implication. First love breaks our heart again and again.