He was already well back then. By that moment he was actually thirsty for a break from whatever was occurring and that had been not as meaningful as expected – (one thing about him: he expects great things from love!) – What failed to acquire the utmost stamp of substance, for she wasn’t him, not the same tide, an incorrect blend, a waste, more likely a loss than something positive but nothing in life is really a loss.
Plus, it’s tough to remain loyal when goodness is whispering already, from there far enough yet close to the heart in ways that strike one as lovelier. A new person that confirmed to me that disparity he had always been aware of – love and something lesser – and from experience, his conclusion was found to be entirely valid, meeting something lesser is far too common. Unwanted by him.
He felt prone to really swap the girls. He would have given up on it as it’s so easy to do when facing that other one who’s better and rarer. It’s always different what you take from two separate people. One’s always righter than the other isn’t it so? Though perhaps one can’t tell which one is it. His idea was that of sobriety, he was never-ending in his assumptions but misassumption broke him down.
And then there is a point when he faced a situation which makes one feel as if the heart’s like a room, the door of which closes behind that last one who exits – for there’s already a ghost of someone else inside it, concurrently, she’s there and she’ll be for long. – And that as she was to go and she did, he didn’t truly get it but he then saw that she was indeed the one that preceded love. Like if there will not be a further chance to embrace illusions because he just found what’s bound to be fortunately abiding, or at least (more) better and rarer than ever. And to understand that what used to feel like surges of love is not so anymore and that life keeps proving us wrong, frustrated him but he’s not the kind of person who sees the bad before the good, or chooses death to a feeble promise, and promises will eventually grow as most things do.
How hearty can one remain after that which keeps striking with that sad sort of same disappointment? One goes on, he did and he met her while she was not trying to, she seemed to need some aid. She was more lost than he could ever be. He is always smiling, as she would say. He always did, that’s how he happens to be. But she does it too, though less but still, and that’s enough, for him, he knows.
For inevitably, a year and a sea of tepid words affect the two who share them and in the habit there’s ever room for hatching some surprise and the promise. And it is made of a continuous specter of words that shall so hardly stop at all. That would be breaking it and no one here is into broken hearts anymore, at least not me and she, oh she couldn’t endure it a second time, she claims.
And he does also know that she could not though he chooses not to lead a thought to where it needs not be now, maybe never. That’s why he has always fancied hope, cause he dreams that when it is shared, it will change lives. Yup, that’s why she makes him dimple, and she knows it, what she causes to him. That’s what’s really rarer, really better and him, I guess he smiled again… really!