Fated the Tine

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FATED

one red string of fate wound around our little fingers;
we met under uncertain circumstances and came to wonder
on what path we walked, what desires we wrote and read
so even until this day, i have kept this string intact for you.

considering the hype and sheer pricing for this creature, i was fully expecting to miss out
and call it a day. against all expectations, i found the number of chocolates that i required.
i can't recall being that active at any point in my egg career. i was half-considering sacrificing
my dignity to run after chocolates, that's how desperate the fight was appearing.
know that i will never sacrifice my digits like this ever again.

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THE LETTER

dear heart, my other half. (is that it? did i address you the way you remember?)

you must be surprised to hear from me.

i earnestly hope you will believe me when i say that i am someone you know well.
i must confess there is nothing i can prove it to you beyond putting to paper that
you always have had lovely eyes. i cannot begin to recall all the hues of a stained
glass window they have ever been, much less the shade of honey they were when i last
met with you in person, but i have no doubt they have continue to cast that light
at all that you gaze at.

i find it curious. if i search the furthest corners of my mind, i can find in my haziest
recollections that you were once a brilliant tailor, in a quiet store tucked away in
the winding streets of a city carved from bronze and i was the vagrant royal, the noble
shamed from the crown who chanced upon you by incident. flickering memories tell me
that you were once the commander of a royal navy undefeated in numbers and in history,
and you were also once an exiled heir, a slighted politician, a hired worker. i remember
you as a young ruler, a simple farmer, a vagabond pirate. i too, spent enough time as a
spendthrift thief, a young runaway, a lying lawyer and an exhausted librarian. i too,
wound through the ages alongside you as an unwanted orphan, a stupid soldier and a
florist who could not tend to the garden as well a i should have.

the weight of the memories of how we found each other in each of those lives are resting
on the edges of my fingertips as i continue to scrawl my thoughts onto this page, but for
all the tales i know by heart, i simply cannot remember your name and i cannot tell if
the name i own now is the name you once knew me by.

you were never much of a gourmet.

that always remained unchanging no matter what you appeared to be. you never were fond
of tying your hair in any style. you liked it to fly free, to tangle in the wind and to
cling to my hands when i ran my fingers through it. once it was lengthy enough to gently
brush along your ankles as you danced with me to to the beat of tambourines and once it
was shorn so short, it was very nearly not there at all. you disliked lavenders in particular,
but you were immensely fond of that particular purple. i would spend much of whatever time
i had on hunting down keepsakes in similar tinctures, and you would laugh at me and tell
me that you appreciated my feeble efforts and that you would treasure those little trinkets
but i could tell by your lilting smile that it was never quite the correct purple.

i assume we once had the intention of raising children. you wished to name our first
after the distant aunt that never liked me for some unfathomable reason. has she grown
into a fine young lady? does she miss me at all? i miss you terribly. i dearly long to
see you again, but as you no doubt know, it would mean one of us would have passed on
already. i do not wish to experience that sudden end ever again.

despite my announced disbelief in a higher being, i will pray to whoever will listen
that this will reach you when i cannot myself. we will meet again soon enough, right?
we have always been fated.

as always, dearly yours. (you know who.)

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