Two Weeks, Two Dates #34

Two Weeks, Two Dates is a fiction coming from the pens of two WordPressers, Ricardo Elisiário and Shaktiki Sharma, together contributing on a weekly basis.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

I could almost grant that we fell onto each other all too fast yet we shared time and thoughts in ways unknown to me or her, I know. And along, I struggled to come across any piece of our two minds capable to flag any flaws, any qualms about the many things that then we embraced as fiery passion swelling us.

We loved as I never could before nor after, as after wasn’t mine to enjoy anymore and anyways I didn’t believe there could be any either… The possibility to have taken part made me only thankful, appreciative of a fact that was how she gazed at me, even though the degree to which a love shall be reckoned the most unique is after all a matter of jolly occasion, of settling for whomever we find during our finite existence.

And philosophy as bold as this did also find room amidst those talks we’ve had everywhere and it was as dreamy as it could get. Now I know that… I hold few regrets even though all that’s lost I know will never meet me again. But all to say that Klara never bore resemblance to a mistake.

The city clamor used to draw us to where the river dampened the big blocks of stone ramping around the tiny void pier or the park that preceded it, ‘twas our gusty venue that didn’t stink as it did in Summer, for the current fled fast to ocean in the earliest months of the year. How we liked it, the view, the rest that stood still… all but her or the weather on top, we liked it greier and fresh, a silver atmosphere into which her eyes shined, faded.

The best sight I can recall, one that is of happiness and that comes and goes when needed. I wanted to remember it all, anyone who loves knows that torment, one of wanting to seize forever what’s bound to leave side by side with time, and it lets us go. What was perfect should have no end but it does. Hearts forever in tandem do not exist but for mine to stop… you know, believing in love is to submit to having never an answer to this one. I chose you, my ache is that I know what “forever” means.

There were though, days when she felt quite not what she seemed…and those I recall here to share.

Ricardo Elisiário


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