Burning your Journals
Who knew fidelity’s even stance
could be mitigated by circumstance?
That a subtle smile, perchance,
exchanged between you at her advance
would wind up in a swift romance
that flourished in that small expanse
between us and her winsome glance.
Who knew that you would go freelance
when love became our ritual dance?
And that I, still in loving’s trance,
would only learn it later, by chance.
Reading your words, caught twice askance.
First by your death, then grief enhanced
as I suffered loss anew
with this further death of you.
The prompt word today was trance.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
I’m just going to go on hoping this is simply brilliant fiction.
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Regrettably, no.
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:-[ Damn it. Indeed, like two losses.
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That would be a maddening revelation. You could never ask for, nor receive, an explanation or apology!
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