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I met her in annoyance, in my youth, and in fright.

I'd never asked for love to find me, although I hoped it might…

            "Hey, Hank." I felt something warm and terribly small touch my back. "Can I tell you something terrible?"

            "First off, my name's not Hank." I said somberly, not turning. "And no, you can't. Or can you?"



             I could practically see her frowning; the thought made me want to smile. "Sheesh. You sound like Mr. Walkins. May I?" she asked, her voice flat. "And besides, what is your name anyway?"

            "It's Harry," I said slowly, "And you're going to lose a finger if you keep poking me.”

            "Harry." She dropped her finger, tasting my name on her tongue. "Harry."

            "What?" I asked incredulously.

            I stared at her for a moment. Her brown eyes clouded, and her face soon flushed. She was the first to look away.

            "Nothing." she said.

And I believed her.

***

Several years later, people came and they went.

I watched as they left.

She watched with me.

A couple years later, people still came and they went.

I watched the whole while.

She always stayed.

***

            "Hank," she whined. "Come here."

            "Harry." I hissed at her. "And no, I don't think I will."

            "Why not? Don't you love me?"

            I thought about that for a moment. Had she really just asked? I chuckled as I answered.

            "What?" I challenged, crossing my arms across my chest. "So what if I did?"

            "Then," she began quietly. I was surprised to see her step towards me. "I'd have to ask you to marry me."

People came and they went.

She promised she would stay.

            "Your answer?" she asked after a while.

            "Oh, let me think about it," I teased as we walked, side-by-side, into our little beach in heaven, our own little place in the stars.

***

            "Harry," she breathed.

            "Hank," I said. "Call me Hank."

            "I'm scared, Harry, I can't remember…"

            "It's okay," I murmured, kissing the space between her brows. "It's okay… just stay…"

            "I will." she promised in a whisper.

The problem? I believed her.

***

I visited her stone, covered in her favorite pink.

The smell of shampoo and her blood in my sink.

The promises we made, all the distance that we'd lose.

I love and so, son, I'm begging you to choose.

Don't fall in love, no matter what the cost.

Though I treasured every moment shared, all the

love we have is lost.

I prayed for so long, but now

I'm standing on her grave.

Because after all, yes, in the end,

love- it never stays.