Ficly

The good life come at last

Here all the bonds fade away.

Singledom and the solitary life I had known were nothing more than pages turned; no dog-ears made. These eyes are now cast out and forward; jubilant in their release from searching for “the one.”

She’d been discovered like some foreign and unknown shore. She was a new world in her own right, one that emphasized the inadequacies of the ports of call that had comprised my journey to date.

Assertions that love was understood proved to be off the mark once her presence filled the gaps in my life. Complimentary does not mean the attraction of opposites, nor the compatibility of kindred spirits. Matches are enabled by ineffable factors best left unexamined.

Her hand holds mine.
My eye sees fragments of her in passersby.
We know another heart as our own.


I wake and the life before my eyes leaves my mind like egg from a cracked shell.

Dream or a vision of a future still to be born?

My heart advocates the latter while logic will allow no designation other than “possible.”

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