My... Err...

'Love is all a matter of timing...' -- 2046

Love is balance, and fragility. So poised, so gentle. As is the finding of love, the beginning of love, perhaps more so, like petals slapped by raindrops. I've had two relationships that have emerged from so delicately balanced circumstances; another drink, or a different route, and I wouldn't have ever known these people. Additionally there are those that have come to an end through tiny incidentals, the over complication of a text message, the prolongued callback. A girl springs to mind, french-moroccan, very beautiful, we became friendly one evening although we barely understood each other. It could have been the start of beauty. Funny how some somehows never play out; we never managed the second meet, I wasn't free, she was busy, I was busy, she wasn't free. And it ended. And I never heard a word. And now, I sit and think of the interruptions of this evening, the phone calls, the pauses, the sliding doors. Into each other the pieces and places have failed to fall. In other times, in other chances, this evening would have been the finale, the clutching, the embrace. For now, this time, it is the lights leaving the platform, the turn, the slow footsteps clicking on the stone. Maybe it is all that it will be.