They were lovers even before they were born. They were lovers even before they set eyes on each other. They were lovers even before they touched. They were lovers.
The fates are ambigous. The fates are mysterious. They began as tellers of tales, tales extraordinary tales human, as time faded cynical yellow ther tales aged the same.She was born stubborn, lips set defiant fingers clenched righteous. He was born quiet, gentle and calm, solemn eyes that saw the world as it was meant to be seen. They met unaware, a careless glance in between a sea of people still her eyes widened his breath quickened, yet they still remained unaware, on the verge, at the brink but still unaware. They loved true. They loved fierce yet they still remained unaware of each other. The fates adamant in their rules waited and watched. They lived insignificant lives, content in their mediocrity habituated in their normality.
The day was the same as any other brimming with wasted probabilities. This was the day they remembered. He blinked solemn and decided and walked away from the comfort and the known. She stared stern and cold and walked away from the loved and dependent. They met again pulled to each other by a force greater than him or her or them combined; eyes transfixed they ached and yearned beyond anything imagined and unimagined. They walked towards each other, aware and awake to each other. They met in each others arms. The moment held heaving with importance crowing with glee until it ended, reason prevailed and they looked at each other, they smiled sad and they understood. They walked back to their lives apart from each other. They died different from the way they lived. They died together. They died lovers.
I want to drag him down with into a spiralling vaulting nowhere. I want to feast on his kindness, on his goodness. I want to ruin him and adore him, for I can not have him, I can not possess him. The world forces us to be gulity to be ashamed yet we dared it despite knowing better despite the chains of claims and vows of ties, we still dared it and we lost, never before had failure claimed more willing victims, martyrs content in their fate. I was vicious in my love; hateful and angry I revelled in it. He smiled at me and opened his arms out, “Do what you must. I will not change” I shook my head in disbelief, my fingers digged deep into my palm, my entire body clenched taut with disgust at his confidence, my rage obvious to his brown fringed eyes and still he smiled. I want to destroy him. I want to break him. I want him to lose to the world, I want him to die to the world. And when nothing else remains, be it a friend, a parent, a lover, a brother, a sister, he will be free; but the weakness lay in me for I loved him too much to set him free. His pain slashed me repeatedley still I reveled it it. He still looked at me and smiled, “This is why, you and I are unlike any other” my body fell back gloriously tired unrepentant and he said, “love is pain. Love is sacrifice. The love you give me cuts me away from all that which is not me and this is why we must die for what we have is too perfect for the world. This moment was all our perfect was meant to be, the rest we must return, for it wasn’t ours to feel”.