Pomegranates

Two breakfasts and one that will never be.
Two suppers full of chatting and iced milk tea.
Bean curd that was finally tasted,
And pomegranates that never will be;
Such is the state of things.

Two strangers who met at the flea,
Gracious thanks I give to thee.
Uncertainty sprung forth from history,
Two weeks lost to four months, see?
Such is the state of things.

Three seeds of the food of my world you have taken,
So it seems you should stay.
However, as the bargain goes,
Only a quarter of your time will be given to me.
Fleeting was (and will be) the time spent together.
Two friends never destined to be lovers.
Such is the state of things.

The hurt I carry is so familiar,
Simply because IT IS similar.
When will I learn this important lesson?
Maybe when my blindness lessens.
Such is the state of things.

Of the things that remain,
Memories of...
Clever repartee and unique wisdom.
Cuddles and kisses and Springfield pants.
Interlocking fingers and lightly touching limbs.
[Breathe. Nuzzle. Bite.]
Burning so brightly and hotly they do,
Searing the very fabric of me.
Such is the state of things.

I'm glad we shared that bean curd...
Pity we may never share those pomegranates.

Such is the state of things.

PS:

I wish you wisdom in navigating your own armada.
I wish you success in conquering your own lands.