Love That We Cannot Have

Oh yeah she remembered the conversation and of course it shattered all her little fantasies.
Goodness it was like having someone pop your joyful red balloon in your face and the shock did not seem to wear off.

All she wanted was to experience more of him.
Yes, him.
The taste. The feel. The depth of desire was astounding and she wanted to roll around in that sensation until she was completely filthy with it.
Wanted to push him to his knees and have him begging for more.
Then in the next breath she wanted to be underneath him begging for more.
Great Goddess she was a greedy bitch who wanted him.
It was so easy to put him in the center of her fantasies. To see those dark eyes filled with that hunger for her that set all her parts quivering.
She knew he yearned for her. He had a craving that she would satisfy, over and over again.

Then she heard the truth.

It shattered those day dreams into sad little playthings she wrote about with sadness in her eyes.

She realized she was just standing in the bookstore staring at the journals before her and had not moved a muscle in a few minutes.
Her cheeks burning she glanced around to see if anyone saw her there acting so oddly.
Acting like a foolish, stupid girl lost in a fantasy

A black journal with a red heart on the front lay on the shelf looking at her with a mournful air.
Grabbing a pen from her purse she snatched up the journal.
Hands trembling she opened to the first page and began to write in red:

The love that we cannot have
is the one that lasts the longest, hurts the deepest, and feels the strongest.

She closed the journal, one tear sliding down her cheek which she wiped away angrily and tossed the journal to the shelf.
Then she turned and walked out of the store.
Leaving the words behind as testimony of her soul.