Out Of Love

I've fallen out of love. Maybe it started with the feeling of not being worth each other's time. Who knows? Maybe the spark that made me want you was just that---a spark. Not a fire, not a flare, not even a glow. A spark, sweet and succinct.

Before, I never tired being with you. You occupied all my time. I touched you and you shiver; as you shiver I am filled with a wanton joy which is almost sinful. But it was not meant to last. The shiver became stagnation, the joy, frustration.

After I left, my life before you resumed. It was the same. I was the same. You did not matter so much that anything that mattered to me did not change.

But why is there a nagging feeling to get back to what we had? Why this obsession with your shivering frame? I had to know. So I confronted you.

You came to me in the middle of the night. You told me that I was just lying to myself. You argued that we are good for each other, and challenged me to disprove your words (which were pure music). I touched you again...and the familiar shiver coursed through you, along with the familiar joy. Yes. We are meant to be.

Guitar, I will never forsake you again.