The Seasons Why
Originally uploaded by lorenzodom
Note: Reader discretion advised. Rated PG-13 for sexual references and some lyrically brute, yet thoroughly honest language.
"If at first you don't succeed,
destroy all evidence that you tried."
The Seasons Why
“Pique me,” I thought.
“Choose me, from amongst the throng of other suitors, choose me. Let my words suit you better, suit you best.”
We corresponded for a couple of months before we met—whetting our cravings and our curiosity, abetting the inevitable; cumulating, cultivating, collecting a philosophy through epistolary tomes of words; interminable moments of going through the motions to get to where we both knew we were going.
And although we both knew that we would only have a few hours the first night we met, we fucked anyway.
For that is what it was—fucking.
Making love would come later, much later, a year of silence later. It would come after a sudden, whimsical serendipity; a mutual meant-to-be that set us back on course.
Thus, of course, again we met. But this time it would be a more tender beginning, a becoming, one with a more auspicious meaning—a promising, a forgiving, a renaissance, a race forward, toward pining hope and fulfillment.
So, months passed—golden leaves fell, rain splashed outside her window while the sibilant-symphonic kuplunk of taxi tires passing over potholes played its serenade, buds blossomed and love grew. We projected our shadows upon bedroom walls, pilfered linen when need be, and soon our souls were entangled into a perfectly, luxurious, knot.
I could not have been happier.
Yet, interminably-intertwined we weren’t meant to be.
Circumstance and the weight of subsequent expectation saw to that. And I was reminded how perfection is as deceptively promising as it is always ephemeral.
But I knew that. Only, love always finds a way into fooling me into forgetting.
(R&O thank you for the inspiration)
Rose, Olive & Me