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.
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2016; all rights reserved