Pooner Diaries: All Good Things

Birdboy · January 16, 2011

I've never been good at goodbyes. I know, though, that today I'm going to have to say a goodbye.

But before I do that, I have some time to kill. I'm comfortably seated at my favorite seat at the counter at my favorite cafe. I warm my hands on my cup, its dark contents steaming slightly. I tip the creamer and watch clouds billow through the black liquid, clouds in my coffee echoing the mixed feelings I have. I think about her, as I've already been doing all morning.

She's so beautiful. I can close my eyes and imagine her silky smooth skin, I can almost feel my fingers running through her curly hair. Patience, my little friend. My hands, my mouth will be on her soon enough.

We had hit it off well, that day we first met. Very, very, well. For a long while we had a certain little infatuation going for each other. We romped for hours in those long-ago early days. They say that the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long. Our flame had burned bright, so very bright indeed. But all good things, no matter how strong, how delightful, must eventually come to an end.

I started to notice that she would be a little distracted when I was around. Then I started to get the feeling that I was boring her, that there was someplace else she'd rather be. Her chatty emails slowed, then stopped. Soon all that was left was the contact of our skin, but not the gentle touch of our minds and hearts.

I'm sure that she'd let me keep coming by. But there's no point now. None at all. I've tasted more than just the touch of her flesh, and I won't settle for less now with her. But I know I can't fill her heart with excitement anymore. I can't thrill her, any more than I can stop the tides. Any more than I can keep the sun from rising tomorrow. No, it's time. Time to move on.

We all know this world has different rules than the outside world. We'll never make plans to meet each other's families. We're never going to have that talk about where our relationship is going. We're never going to talk about what it all means. We know the answer to those questions. We've known them from the very beginning. I don't have to say goodbye. In fact, I don't have to say anything. All I have to do is just stop calling and that would be the end of it.

I'm going to see her one last time. It's going to be different, today. I'm going to pour my heart and soul out in every kiss, in every caress. I'm going to be gentler than I ever was, more caring than I've ever been. Today, it's going to be all about her. That will be my parting gift to her. That will be my wordless goodbye.

I'll close the door behind me as I leave her home, a last look back over my shoulder as I walk away with bittersweet memories. She'll realize soon enough that I've moved on. But she won't know that I'll wish her well, and a happy, healthy and long life. Until she reads this, anyway.

In time, I'll call another. Someone who I hope I can thrill like I thrilled her, once.

I look at my watch. It's time to go. I fumble in my pocket, and put a few coins on the counter as a tip. I pull my coat on, and push open the glass door into the street.