All It Was Meant To Be

You showed up. My heart longing for distraction, anything to cut through the pain and crazy of an end. You were an open window, a welcome relief from the stale air I'd been breathing. Lover of books, you plopped down right in the middle of my passion for writers with shared favorites and insights.

Were you feeling vulnerable? Longing for love? Too audacious in your assumptions? Too premature in your professions? Do you know what you implied with the word simpatico?

It felt foreign to hear such vulnerability the second time we met. In the days that followed it felt like it didn't happen then POOF! as if it actually didn't you were in love with someone else. Less than 14 days had passed. A song no one could whistle. An introduction without an ending. A poem instead of a novel.

Was it all it was meant to be?