the painter's poet
writings from onna hui

Friday, February 21, 2014

The Condition


We met on the first evening of autumn that year.  The months 
following were spent in laughter, exploration, dance, and late-night 
sharing of each other's life story.

Then one day he said to me, "This can be forever if we let it."  His 
words were heavy, though genuine.  Yet somehow, I was unconvinced 
of us.

I polished off a glass of fizzy.  I picked at some invisible lint on my 
black jeans.  How faded they were in the unmasked light.

He reached for my hand.  I reached for something on the end table--
perhaps an excuse, perhaps another reason to continue being without 
a permanent condition.

We didn't talk for a few days.  We didn't see each other for a week.  
Eventually, it became a month.  Then a year passed.  Autumn came 
and went.

Yesterday marked the fifth year of our obsoletion.  I heard he married 
a pretty gal and started a family.  They are living somewhere overseas 
now.  He fancies her very much.  That is all I know.

We could have been each other's forever.
But I didn't believe it.
I didn't allow myself to believe it, or to believe him.

These days, autumn only reminds me of what I no longer have.

Forever.


---
Originally written in 2012
Edited and published in 2014