Chance coincidence

When you're falling-Playing for change/Sweden

Chance coincidence.  Text terse typed.  So long ago.  Time had passed.

She was the most beautiful girl in town.  That's what he would tell you.  Her eyes... a piercing radiant sun that erupted from a storm tossed sea.  The softness of her skin composed to the sharp beauty of her jaw.  Her petite breasts jutting so proud, so firm, from her chest.  All of her body was a comforting shelter that he had sought refuge in.  A sturdy bastion against the storms of the world.  She... and he... they were ready to challenge all.  Her spirit so brave, yet at the same time so timid.  She lived in the contradictions.

Time had passed.

Like a madman, it was in the boxes of memory that he had kept that which was precious of her.  The laughter, the joy, the pensioned longing for release, and of course the rampant deluge of joy... with being, with becoming, with the unprecedented joy of the one.  In body and spirit.  Bodies acting in the longing to dance to the songs that souls sung.

Time had passed.

Reality was little more than a cold blooded and persistent hag softly cooed into his ear.  Words he knew.  Words he saw.  Words he did't want to hear... but words that lingered in their latency... he knew.  They stood in stark juxtaposition to all he longed for.  Though he could hear it, he knew it, he hated it.  But he knew... in the beginning was the word... and the Word was good.

She was a blackbird persistent that plagued his mind.  Flying from one box of memory to another.  Softly tapping, rapping, at the doors longing to be let in.  To plague with persistence.  She had a glorious box of tricks to refute to diffuse.  One was gas lighting.  Another was to advance in such brave denial that it couldn't have possibly have been her.  He knew her games.  Rather than confronting, he would let her believe her own story.  Let her wallow in her excuses.  Why did he receive them as he approached the truth?  Maybe it was because he meant nothing, or maybe it was because he meant everything.

She didn't have many friends.

The first time break her words were "What the hell are you doing here?"  Moons passed.  Tides turned.  Only to end with "What the fuck are you doing here?"  She won, he thought as he drove away.  She got the last word.  Or hold on a second... maybe one who has the last word is the looser.    
Yet she persisted.

He took refuge in the fact that as long as the blackbirds were not released they could fly inside the mind as much as they wanted to.  Let them fly.  Try to build them a nest.  Calm their ferocious and piercing movement.  So it goes.

Chance coincidence.

Til he saw her.  Her hair was a little frayed.  Her eyes hidden by sunglasses.  The other gleefully believing all was well.  The small rotund dog clipped by her feet.  It could have made the chicken scratch.  It could have.  He didn't say anything.  Leave it be.  What would have been gained?  Nothing.  What would have been lost?  Nothing.  Let it go.  It was never that he was not good enough for her.  Rather, maybe it was she that was never...

Well...

The play goes on.

After all... Time had passed.

Chance coincidence.