I met you in afternoon air sitting by the cafe.

I sat underneath the brambles with you, softly touching your neck while I grazed my lips to yours. And while I held you in your long skirt, I slid my hand softly against your smooth flesh and lost myself in your dark beauty. Unknowing of how the days following will go, I was forced to think of the situation as one day, one moment without chance of another. The moment, therefore, was a great deal more.

I went to the party shivering in my wet clothes. The pond felt warm in the moment. Afterward, the night air robbed me of my energy forcing me into a shiver.

And I think this could be great.

Nevertheless, I am sadly realistic.

Today I go on a run and try to force on my mind a Zen image of the moment. One time. One instance. One second followed by another. This way it will be beautiful even when we find our true paths.

This is a crazy world for a hopeless romantic fool such as I.