Fleeting romance

Fleeting romances.  They’re not for the sensitive type.  They’re not for the feeling type.  They’re not for the type whose imagination takes hold of the future like a hungry beast, gnawing at distant, dreamy notions of together, together, together. How many times have they thought: “We can lead this life, together, yes together, and it will be so much more beautiful that way”?  They see this even in the eyes of a stranger.  The possibility ignites and disappoints.  These dreamy types are swept away by the invisible currents of their own passion, only to soon be plopped down amidst a dessert of loneliness. Yearning for together, they always find the wrong one: the easy one, the fake one, the flirting one, the lying one, the tender one whose romance is painfully rehearsed.  They become weary from the in and out, the hello and goodbye, and with each perceived failure their imagination blossoms and decays.  Together, goodnight, good morning and never again.  Oh sensitive brooding souls.  How many times have they thought: “It just wasn’t meant to be.”  A line taught by movies, it should make you cringe.  Fortune has great plans for you, hold tight.  Next time, next one, next day.  You won’t be alone for long.