All beauty must fade, wither, crack, split, die, and so too the beauty of sweet hospitality loses something magical when put to a test. Splintering down to strained smiles, curt little whispers behind a turned back summon up strangleweed between the gaping cracks of a path we walked for so long until "so long." There's a blind desire to douse what remains in that left-behind radiance with a drowning of petrol, a gasoline baptism, and send it out with a pyre: something to remember.
Love comes and love goes. Romantic, platonic, delusional - why keep score, right?