A Love That Never Was
by Siberia

Note: A product of The Cocteau Twins' "Frou-Frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires".

I beheld my first love
At the preschool's green yard
The boy with light freckles
Chesnut hair and hazel eyes
(Whose cuteness I kept in sight)
Handed me a flower
Still damp from spring's shower
That he plucked just for me
I thanked him with a smile
(Too shy by a mile!)
And he lit up with glee

Affection then blossomed
As it can for four-year-olds
We played under the sun
Whether with blocks or crayons
Forgetting what we're told
Pushing on the swings
As if we both had wings
Saving nearby seats
Building castles in the sand
Make-believe kings and queens
Running with clasped hands—
Even pecks on my cheek!

But our love came to an end—
Pneumonia stole my breath
Like a snake around my neck
Chaining me from my beloved
For what seemed like months
With the ever-present threat
Of almost certain death
Soon his warmth was lost...
(And somehow I survived
Yet in a way I still died...)

Time nearly gave up
But I knew him at once
This new lad in grade four
Cheerful and pale-faced
With gentleness' grace—
My fondness grew even more!

I greeted my old sweetheart
Searching within his gaze
For a sign he would recall
Anything of me at all
But the joy I craved
Replied with a blank slate

Slapped by my greatest fear
My girlish heart cried
As I fought back a tear
To utter, "Never mind"
Love burrowed underground
Where it will not be found...

Twenty years after the bliss
We meet again by chance
But something seems amiss
A young man now stands
Where the child once did
And how I am forlorn
By this strange adult form—
The sole tangible vestige
Of the innocent soul
Who used to adore me so

I reveal our tender past
Which I'm unable to cast
Hoping to awaken
Any dormant feelings
But the man shakes his head
And the truth must be bled...

An auto accident
At the age of six
Had left him comatose
With three cranial dents
For six tortured weeks
Wiping clean any trace
Of his past memories—
Including my pretty face

"I'm so sorry," he says
"I wish I could see
With the ease you possess
The moments we shared
For they sound lovely—
So utterly pure and fair
Thank you for this cute tale
At least it resides in you
Where it won't turn stale"

So all that remains with me
As noted by history
Is half a romance—
Though it seems less than that
Like Mathilde and her Manech
Whose hurt I cannot forget...

It appears that Bad Luck
Has no one else to woo
For another woman walks
Beside my Angel now
And as a stupid fool
I wonder outloud
"If the bully that is Fate
Had not stolen my soulmate
Could it be me in her place...?"

So I ask, dear readers
Is it truly better
As sage Wisdom claims
(And other advisors shamed)
To have loved and lost
Than to never have loved
At all? No, I think not

Exiled from Venus' glade
It stings like a cold blade
This pain I must bear
Knowing it's not fair
That the first boy I loved
Will always be thought of
But the first girl he kissed
Never even existed