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The awkwardness divides, even as feelings swell below the surface of the thick winter coats, that late calming night. Never before have I so enjoyed a walk through a park with someone else. I express the thoughts tumbling through my head, even as other thoughts breeze through, murmuring to me what he’d told me earlier that night. Grief, not anger passing through; the death of Opportunity.

The stars are missing, hidden beneath the whiteness of the earlier snow clouds, as the lights from the city all around make the darkest corners clear. I talk to fill the spaces, as I do when fear sits at my door, tapping nervously with his foot. Those silences that I do keep a while, are peaceful. As if we always knew each other, while the rush of words crash into our newly-spun illusion, bringing our lives into sharp detail, even as our senses and instinct give us a picture of each other that a camera could never capture. The details unimportant, the odd strange utterance ignored, as languages melt together.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m even speaking out loud. Is he even there beside me? I’ve walked these walks so oft before. My company a fox or cat. Alcoves shielding from things too strong. My conversations with wind and stars. Walking without direction as I wonder and wander. Is he still next to me? Has he not melted back into the trees?

I daren’t look some of the time, pain and realization keeping my eyes fixed everywhere else. A glance meets his eyes, scaring me more than the words that came too late. I promise, its not love. I’ve not known him long enough. This connection, this sweet moment, more precious than all those before, yet not today and not tonight. A break into reality, torn in the fabric of my daily life, ripped out again once the wounds are barely scabbed.

Peace. Desired, yet unwanted at this time. No pity will I take, for fate’s cruel blow tonight. I listened to the magic, I followed its sweet scent. We dove into the moment, came crashing to the shore. All magic has its price, my knowledge came too soon. Will it ever show again, how life can make one heart from two? Puzzle me this, with pieces gone and others changed forever:

Can there be friends,

true special friends,

who aren’t friends

but lovers.

Who aren’t lovers

but soulmates,

Though that’s too much to ask.

Friends

to share their passions

and join their lives,

grow their hearts

and feed the souls.

But,

it needn’t be much,

just something.

Is that too much?

We don’t ask for much…

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