Friday, May 5, 2017

Heather Jephcott writes

No Friendship, No Romance 

She was hoping for another friend. 
He was searching for love.
They met along the highway of life.

She wanted pure friendship, nothing more, nothing less. 
He desired a romantic affiliation perhaps more, nothing less.
She was friendly. 
He tried to sound romantic.

She loved to interact with people, male and female. 
He just wanted love and romance to fly his way.
She was never pushy. 
He almost always was.
She had time on her hands, mostly.
He felt like time was running out for him.
She had yet to find anything attractive about him as a friend. 
He was already lost in her eyes, her face had captured his interest.

She thought it possible to be just friends. 
He had no interest in such things for him.
She knew after a very few sentences 
that this was no budding friendship, it was going nowhere.
He knew when she uttered the words, "Happily married", 
that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
She knew he was likely to drop off her map 
and down into the grave of those whose names she had forgotten.
He wished and wished, which was a useless activity 
that those eyes were free. 

She was practiced at recognising such men, 
but had been hoping, as she sometimes did,
for someone a bit different, dissimilar to the normal mold.

He was not so practiced with women in this sphere 
and quickly made his disinterest known when he knew
she wasn't wanting anything more than friendship. 
She had wanted friendship. 
He had wanted romance.
No friendship. 
No romance.
 Letchworth Village cemetery, Rockland County, New York -- Allison Meier

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