Lovers Become Friends

  
We met at a Catholic retreat designed to manipulate emotions and destroy your ego in an effort to find Christ. I remember seeing her for the first time so clearly: her hair curly, a brownish-blonde, and cut below the shoulders; her beauty marks on her distinguished face; her lighting of candles. I loved her instantaneously.

Gone are the curly locks, now replaced by short straight hair. More prominent are the distinguished beauty marks. Instead of wax candles and Christ, she lights the fire of spirituality in anyone she comes into contact with.

We are no longer lover. We are dear, dear friends. I still love her.

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