Impossible

He found himself around her
Periodically.

Not every day…

But every once in a while.

That infrequency should
Have stifled emotion.

There was no reason
For him to think about her…
Continuously.

Nothing in the standard playbook
Of relationships,
Or romance
Would suggest that this
Would become
“A thing.”

But it did.

Every morning…
He woke,
Seeing her in his mind.

Throughout the day,
He eyed his email inbox,
Ready to pounce on
Any note she sent him.

And in the evening,
As the sun set,
Gifting to his eyes
A palette of color
And beauty,
He only compared that majesty
To her…

Knowing she bested
Each twilight glory.

This woman was so beautiful
And so special,
In every way…

Harnessing him,
Captivating him.

No corner of his mind,
Nor whisper of his memory
Was left untouched.

To not love her,
Deeply,
Completely,
Passionately…

Was…

Impossible.

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

 

 

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