A maybe

They all fall in love with me. It’s inevitable. Some quite quickly, others take their time. I think I prefer the ones who take their time. Because it gives me an inch of hope that I might fall in love with them too. I think it’s the hope that drives me forward, which nurtures me. It allows me to grow. I never fall in love though. And every time I have to explain, every time I’m faced with the puzzled expression, the misunderstood, heart broken, at times even tearful eyes, I just say it as it is.

I’ve taught all of them how to love. Now they’re free to move on with their open hearts. Maybe that’s just enough. Maybe that’s all there is to it. Maybe that’s all it’s ever going to be.

Fuck. I despise the word maybe.


7 thoughts on “A maybe

  1. These prose pieces would be great with some black and white images. For the previous post, a smoky bar, for this one, maybe a fawning lover or a couple with distance between them. Maybe. Shit-scrap that last word.

    1. All of those maybes. Damn word appears everywhere the more you think about it.
      I’ve considered adding images with my pieces but at the moment I find it imposes a vision on the reader. Perhaps I’ll reconsider when I’ve managed to take a good photo that fits the mood of a prose.

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