2002-01-15 - 11:22 p.m.
Two people, kept together by a shared six months.
There was a certain purity in their time together-
Simple, imperfect, real.
She: Bossy, snubbed Hollywood endings, ran in fallen maple leaves, powerfully helpless, sang by the tealights.
He: Believed and unknowingly craved the Hollywood ending, travelled from city to city, made her laugh, dance, and cry.
They: Lovers. Through autumn, winter, and part of spring.
He went away in spring. To where it was autumn, and grew a new love.
She winced, then wilted, withered.
They watched each other walk on, fell in love, and out.
Attributable reasons: His mistake, hers first, twist of fate, two wrongs, restlessness with things too good, death.
Stuck in the grey area, countless post-mortems, no resentment, only resignation.
She orchestrated his guilt, and fed on it.
He let her, perhaps because he felt she was entitled to it.
Separated by time and place, they tempt fate.
Innocence lost, clarity regained.
