Beauty and I did not meet for lunch today.
She had her reasons, I understand them. They had nothing at all to do with me. In her elegant shoes, in her difficult circumstances, I would have postponed it too.
I would feel more disappointment if I had really been expecting to see her. If I really believed that today I would gently take her sweet hand in mine in a warm, almost shy greeting. Possibly brush the skin of her perfect, precious face with my lips in that same untidy welcome. Maybe even hold her close for a brief, tender, breathless, self-conscious moment.
To embrace for as long as friendship would decently allow.
But these faded days I seldom allow my hopes to rise higher than the cold winter sun on the distant horizon. I have had more than my share of recent star-crossed quests. I am weary, jaded, and just a little cynical of feminine promise.
When next I see Beauty, if indeed I ever do, she will be married.
It will not make her any more or less distant than she is now.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Fabian Perez