Just a pair of sore losers

Our paths crossed at a strange time. We sparked a flame on a rainy day, and neither one of us was sure what to make of the steam we created. We were still just kids, but grown up enough to know that it was different that time. Heaven knows we weren’t ready for the intensity, but there it was. I remember that day fondly, vividly; I remember exactly the things you said to me. 

Once crossed, our lives tangled, and I soon found myself entwined in your everyday routine. You settled right into mine, too, just like we’d never known anything different. The fire had found its way into my bloodstream and pulsed through me with a subtle warmth, and it was comfortable for the most part but it still burned in my heart. We were confused as hell, but couldn’t keep away from one another. I started to believe in fate.

There did come discomfort from time to time when our tangles turned to knots. We took turns tripping each other, trying to even the score and make the other fall. We were both terrible losers, too. Time and distance challenged us the same as any other pair. Twice, you drifted far enough that we could almost pass for strangers again.

A little trust and a knife was all it took to cut away the mess. We started over, using memories to rekindle what we’d lost. You urged me to push you when I needed you to fight harder. I asked you to set me straight when I pushed the boundaries too far. We smiled like we had as kids, and you repeated the things you said to me on our first day. I spilled my guts and asked you to always stay.  We agreed to be a good thing, even if it meant learning to lose.

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