She had this amazing face; proud, beautifully handsome, with angles that showed shadows of pain and hurts that could never be healed.
It stopped him cold, and took his breath away. It wasn’t just beauty. It wasn’t about beauty. It was magnetically magical.
He typed the words to her and she typed them back. Thousands and thousands of words. She told her tales and he his. They drank wine as they sat hundreds of miles away talking for hours about everything and nothing, both looking forward to those cherished moments when their essences would swirl together; sparks flickering and spattering, uncaring in their direction.
They both were broken and flawed with delicious streaks of self destructiveness bent on avoiding true happiness at all costs as they sat stuck neutral in pleasant fields of muck. Yet they both were strong and occasionally noblest of creatures.
He knew they would meet even though there’d be a cost to pay. The scars would be worth it for those few treasured moments of not being where he was.
She finally fled her Gucci Hamster wheel and arrived on a warm sunny evening. The breeze blowing her hair gently as her soul carried her up his stairs.
It was a magical night. Gentle mingling, gentle kisses, hunger, passion, not wanting it to ever end, yet wanting to flee from it before it consumed both of them.
He remembered her taste, her smell, how her belly felt when he rested his hand on it and he could feel the gentle indentation of her belly button under a finger.
He would miss her, and she would miss him.
They both felt empty as she drove far away, never to be seen again. The words would still flow, but it had changed and the lies started; at first to herself, and then to everyone else.
Happiness was too close and it scared both of them. As time crept along it all felt like an odd dream; a book long ago read whose pages smelled familiar.
Back they each fell to the familiar ache and hollow of a full emptiness of life, as the memory faded to yellow and gray.