Love’s Person, Mood, Tension, and Message; and the Enemy Without

Our Characters

We share an enemy, you and I. He can make us or break us, he can make us fight and he can make us fly. He can make you know about me, all my innermost thoughts, or just some of them, or even just what I'm willing to tell. He can share what others think of me, or what I think of others, if it moves our story. He can engender me, gender me, age me, weather me, even explain me. I am powerless in his hands.

Our Background

He has put us in the past, allows us in the present, or predicts us in the future, with woulda-coulda-shouldas locked in the subjunctive were it prudent...were it. He will make us active, passive, and passive-aggressive. He will unravel my essence but cite my distance from quintessence, for no one wants perfection, and you will eschew such selection, bored, our story fated to be unread.

Our Setting

He is our only peril, so don't be fooled by the ordeal at hand that has been dealt us. His keystrokes are our strikes. He wants you to like me, to even love me, and then he challenges you to remain true when revelations strain our bond. It will be rough going if our relationship is not to be boring. The rougher, the more of you will be there for me--the more lovers I will have. But whoever said love was smooth? Or easy?

Our Moral

We rise and we plunge, and what falls out is worth learning. It may be simple or complicated, but it's there for all to see. You and me: the sum is greater than the addition of the parts. When you remember me, you will thrill to what you've learned because of me. Often I won't even see it myself, but as long as you do, it's the only thing he does that can make me happy.

The Denouement

Like in everything, the timing is precipitous, head-long, sideways, head-over-heels as we race toward a climax. A lover's climax.  Planted devices, once inconsequential--even unnoticeable--come together to shock, awe, and settle us. Nonsensical matures sensical, and you see me for who I really am, thanks to him. Now that your love of me may falter, your love of what we shared--what we had together--will never. And you will find it hard to separate that from me. And us. But him? He's gone on to put other lovers together in lives that sit between bookends.