|Final Goodbye...Hello Again (standard:romance, 539 words)|
|Author: Cyrano||Added: Aug 22 2018||Views/Reads: 43/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Just a love story|
A liquid Sunday slithers ashore above the flat, inexhaustible waves bringing in the fog until the cliffs are absorbed, my home surrenders its charm, the treetops disappear, and yet, still, the syrupy Sunday slides on and on toward Monday. I walk the shore, footprints, freshly trod, are swallowed from the sand, reassuring me that I came from nowhere, or the ocean; a liquid life pouring across the beach not knowing the possibility of falling in love with you, even after I knew there were others. I was determined not to leave the footprint of my life on yours. Not now. Not when I just got you home, knowing there is everybody else to love you. But again, you turned to me in our Sunday bed and smiled. And we were very warm again, melting the Sunday, trickling down the page, then gone. Everything is okay. The moth will continue to chase the flame. The bees will still pollinate, and the haze of the evening is once again soft blue in a timeless world. Love was never meant to be simple, but neither were you meant to be devoured like chocolate cake. It felt like another place, another war ago, when the bullets between the comas left you injured and bleeding. All this for a quiet hour, when every author will tell you what that's worth. But, no. No paragraph is worth the corner cries of a woman feeling unloved because she can't understand the language. We were in a place where there was nothing to laugh at together. Differences, you said. The only difference, I suppose, is that I'll change for you. I'm willing. I want you only as you are. But why fly all the way from London to tell of my inadequacies? I said we'd never say goodbye, but on that stupid day, the word came easy and without effort. Maybe that's because I didn't have to say it face to face but at either end of telephone line. I only know the conversation, however hard or easy, did end with a final goodbye. I love you still. As much, and as love goes, even more than that first half drunk night you concentrated so hard on pleasing me and did. I love you. I'm not afraid to say it even after all the mean and misery that's passed between us. Apologies. How could they compensate for rides across the ocean done in tears and not in laughter? How could they make up for two people desperately in need of one the other not making up? If that's what it was — being timid and unsure, pretending I was strong when my strength only came from you instead of thinking every night in bed was one more potential crisis. It never was. I have a lot to sort out before I head out to Santa Fe, but I'll do it and I'll be there for you as promised. The past year has been one of the happiest in my life and nothing or no one is about to change that. I've worked long, suffered hard, run scared to get to this point and if I haven't earned some happiness, I'll take it anyway... ...then give it all to you. Tweet
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