How to be a Star-Crossed LoverMature

I drove for many hours and many more miles.  More than my mind could tell.  I pressed on as the land grew colder, more desolate, and I more desperate.  I learned to both hate and love this trek, for its length and purpose respectively.

And when I arrived, I searched gleefully, full of hope.  I found your home, nice as it was, as I had remembered it.  I spied you through the window, working diligently on your laptop.  Your hair was in dark-chocolate curls, bringing a smile of pleasure to my face.

I walked around to your front door, where I stood humbly and honestly.  I summoned you in the same manner.  And there you appeared, surprised yet reserved; gorgeous and brilliant; eyes deep and wonderous; my other half.  I stepped lightly inside as your parents called.  Strangely enough, they welcomed me without hesitation. 

We came to a table in the kitchen, where I had spied you working before.  Your parents left, again to my surprise, to leave us in privacy.  We spoke of many things then.  We talked of writing, of laughing, of many things which had passed.  You did not seem so drowned by my presence, but rather you sustained yourself with it in moderation.

We decided to walk in the park.  The cold bit harshly, and we stayed close for warmth.  You began to unwind to me, you confessed and confided with me.  I could feel the ice inside myself melting, with slight regret and trepidation.  Deep in my mind, I felt I was going nowhere.  I ignored this nonetheless.

We came back to your house shortly after, and ascended the stairs to your room, where you gazed out the window.  A white glaze of light cast itself upon you, portraying you as some sort of angelic figure.  Awestruck, I came forward and held you.  My arms around your waist; no other feeling could have matched this. 

Your breathing was light, yet I felt a heaviness about your senses.  I turned you to me.  Still glowing in white luminescence, your face contorted.  It shook back and forth, and you gently slid yourself from my hold.  You took my hands and spoke to me, softly and sincerely. 

"Love, this cannot be.  I'm sorry..."

I nodded my head, knowing she spoke words of truth.  We grasped each other's hands intensely, and we came close for one final moment.  In that moment, we shared a mournful kiss.  It was beautiful and pure; not tainted by lust or control.  Through our lips we translated unto each other our mutual desires and our pain. 

When the moment was over, she turned and let free my hands.  I breathed a sigh and turned to leave.  When I arrived at my car, she was still there, white as an angel at the window.  Her tears glistened like rivers on her skin, visible from a plane in the sky.  I did not wave as I climbed into my car and drove away.

-

These dreams are the kind of torment I sleep in.

The End

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