Me

I was so sore this morning...at leaving you...the sunrise was so so gorgeous, but I was sad sad sad.
While you photographed me without me knowing it, my heart was breaking.
Only later did I cry. And again even later, lots more.
I was strangled in pain.

Pingless on The Edge

Who would ever have thought. That a month and eight days later. I'd be sitting in exactly the same section of the couch. At roughly the same time. In Salvador's, Kaapsehoop.
But this time it would be deep autumn, as opposed to the very solstice itself. And that now, so quickly, I'd be with broken heart, as opposed to - then - one falling in love, and one filled to overflowing with the anticipation of a new relationship.
And that two birthdays would have passed, mine in celebration glory, his ruined. By me.
Oh I've been foolish and small, and have taken love, and human being, for granted. The pain is enormous. Much worse is my helplessness and knowing that my heart, and his, is in 'fate's' hand: Which way will the dice roll?
But the most serious question of them all, is whether I would have learnt my lesson or not?
How many more lovers must I bring to The Edge in just as many, or more years?
We'll walk to the edge after lunch is done, just as him and I did then. I'll look out with hope, looking for positive signs in cosmic tea leaves.
But for now my heart yearns for his Ping in my whattsapp, and to know (for sure) that I'm in his thoughts.
Oh how I have taken love for granted.