Day Three hundred and twenty two - Conium maculatum

There was a moment when things could have happened differently between us. It was still fairly on in our relationship, and one day I texted you, and maybe I was feeling a little bit insecure, or something like that, but I asked you if you really liked me, and you said 'I'm afraid so', and that there was what brought us to be sitting down at a table, across from each other, after a long, long time. It was good seeing you again, and though in the years that passed we'd sometimes - though very irregularly - communicate with each other, it rarely ever was anything else than a curt birthday message or seasonal well-wishing. What always wounded me the most was how we'd not managed to even remain friends, and I told you as much sometime after our meal had arrived, and the booze had start to flow. Then you stun me and ask me if we'd ever been friends, and you say that we'd gone from being complete strangers to being in a relationship after a date or two, and of course I say we were friends, we must have been, we wouldn't have stayed together for so long had there not been friendship between us, right? But now I don't know, I mean, we were very friendly to each other most of the time, and sometimes we acted like we downright resented one another and hated each other's guts, but things had always been civil between us. Was that friendship, though, you ask, and I always thought it was or maybe it had been enough of it. But before we get lost in those intrusive thoughts, you laugh everything away, say the past is just the past, and let bygones be bygones. How can I say no to the wine you pour, and to the promises I see dancing in your eyes? I should know much better by now, we both should, and it's no wonder that after we talk too much, and reminisce too much, and drink too much, we end up finding solace in each other's lips, a melody of flesh and desire incensing the senses, we're senseless now, helpless now, inside you now, over me now, under you now, that earthy musk our sex generates filling the air, my head's spinning, I plunge myself inside you, your nails etching deep grooves in my back, blood running down my back, semen running down your breasts, I'm spent, you're spent, we fucked up by fucking our brains out. It feels so good. So, so good. It feels right, but in all the wrong ways. You turn out the light, and we kiss goodnight, and when I begin to wake up, when I start to leave the lands of summer's twilight, I realize it had been a dream all along, just that - a dream... this dream is almost ending.