The beauty of a forbidden relationship is that it only exists for the moments that the lovers allow it to exist. When they part ways it stops, when they reconnect it begins again. During their time together the relationship burns so completely because they know it dies when their time together ends.
It is both marvelous and profoundly sad. The lust, passion, closeness, desire and exhilaration can never be shared with others. It can never exist. Life, for the lovers, will be a series of dazzling moments dancing on the waves of what is otherwise an endless sea of longing desperation.
They listen with consummate focus to each others words that they then become the thought the other is emoting. This experience of completely shared moments will be later milked of every memory in a futile effort to bridge the gap between encounters.
I suppose I shouldn’t be imagining the secret lives of squirrels as I watch them gather their winter food but the clocks went back last night and I didn’t sleep in.