It could have been a lovely time,
drops hidden on high fears,
tearing down slowly, imprecisely,
on quiet and forgotten minds.
It could have been a breeze,
a subtle and warm summer wind
embracing bodies and lonely minds,
worried on themselves
and the perfect state of being loved.
It could have been a quake,
shocking and disturbing,
shaking and cracking
souls and empty heads,
exhausted and ill for sharing.
It could have been rain,
colder than distance,
wetter than sweat splashes
of salty tears, never falling,
always ready for immediate collapse.
It could have been nice
and easy but it wasn’t,
it never was.
There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. (William Shakespeare)