Safely Ever After

Can it be that somehow, some way, romance still lives within me? That perhaps it’s just hidden away somewhere I no longer want to touch?

Is that why when it’s merely a reflection, an illusion, a fiction set in a work of art or filtered through history’s veils, I can still feel it so?

How romantically stupid that would be, how eerie, how wasteful.

But how safe.

Perhaps even safely ever after.
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© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2016; all rights reserved