2/14: a bad poetry reading
3/3: a number
3/12: a dinner, of sorts
3/17: a missed chance
3/29: a long time since
4/14: a wonderment
4/15: a conviction
4/16: a change

2/14: he ignored the hints but she asked him anyway
3/3: she had eyes that had startled him, and so a barrier fell
3/12: he didn’t know what she had planned, and she was surprised that he didn’t care
3/17: she looked and watched and waited and sighed and left
3/29: he had withered but she reached; he was glad
4/14: she was direct and he was shocked and she asked and he had misunderstood and she smiled and he went with her
4/15: he lived the day in a warm protective cocoon of deep-seated happiness, despite misgivings
4/16: but she was understanding, even if she didn’t understand

2/14: he didn’t know her name, but the wind cared not, and carried them regardless, and
3/3: they were glad to meet anew. A passing smile, a flash of eyes,
3/12: a suburban adventure with ice cream and Barber’s Adagio,
3/17: a last chance to meet, perhaps to tell of things, was missed -
3/29: making it all the more poignant when they spoke next, and more and more,
4/14: and when she told and asked him, his ideas and dreams and half-plans were ripped away, leaving him a growing numbness. He knew not what to do, save go with her, and she kissed him first – despite all of his best intentions – and they fell into one another.
4/15: he woke up in her long, sweet arms, and knew – deeply, truly, wistfully – that it had to end.
4/16: they lay in the grass and were sun-blind.
when they parted, it was as something altogether different
and he woke during the night and looked for her and she was missing, and he broke down, and she wouldn’t have understood – couldn’t have – because she was something altogether different, and he was not, and she was not, and he and she sought their own candleflames and hopes and Elysia and Valhallas and their fundaments differed. He yearned, and wept, and slept, and began to cauterize. But over the next days and nights and daybreaks he was quiet and began to realize that although she was not his, she had reached through his fortress and it was all right. He realized that she had chased him, and he realized that maybe she was right in saying that he didn’t need to be self-conscious, and over time, he woke. and every time the world made him grin, he thought of her, and shook his head as she did, like a wet dog, splaying his hair out into the sunlight and making a mess of it without minding.

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