My love… We never declared it, did we, but we knew we were meant for one another. Perhaps if we were more reckless, more impulsive, we could have done it. Now we are old, I will say it; many’s the night I waited, heart pounding, imagining that you might appear and carry me off into the night. We would arrive at a city, a wonderful, cosmopolitan city where no-one knew us and say, we are man and wife. When no-one knows you, saying it makes it so. You would have written, painted, I don’t know, done whatever you wanted to! I would have lain on thick silken cushions, waiting for you to return home and ravish me until I begged you to stop.
Alas, now we are old and grey. You married for money, and I for necessity. We never left this town and we never spoke a single word. Yet I cannot forget that one night. It was well known that you were looking to marry and my mother smartened me to the highest height. You never know, she said. The moment you saw me, you burned, I could see it, my love. You watched me, and when you saw me leave the room, you followed me, pushed me into that alcove and kissed me so hard I thought my face would bruise. I stopped you, I was afraid, but now I wish I’d allowed you to continue. I thought you might anyway, the grip on my arms grew rougher, but then someone called you and you darted away. Perhaps we’d have been together if they hadn’t. Ah well.
Daily Writings 