Cause and Effect: She Was Losing Him

If she had never felt like she was losing the love she had come to know since summer, she wouldn’t have stopped to watch the V-shaped flight of the black geese against a peach sky.

If she had never paused to watch the birds migrate south, she wouldn’t have noticed the cloud with an outline identical to the shape of their bodies lying together.

If she had never slept beside him and marveled at the rivers and valleys created by their bodies coming together, she would have never tallied and mapped out the freckles and spots on his skin.

If she had never come to know his markings as her own, she would have never stayed up with him talking until the properties of seconds and hours no longer applied to them.

If she had never rejected the notions of time and reason just to be with him a little longer, she would have never observed his patterns in hesitation and happiness. 

If she had never studied the way his mind worked in moments of sincerity, she would have never marveled at the ease of his hands on her body.

If she had never allowed his hands to roam her skin and coax goosebumps to the surface, she would have never begun to untuck the safety measure she’d put in place to guard her against the hazards of living.

If she had never released her caution, she wouldn’t have shown him the Blue Ridge Mountains and their candor.

If she had never taken him to the place where the mountains seemed to crack the sky and question all properties of God, she would have never said those words that mean everything.

If she had never loved him, she wouldn’t have felt like she was losing him.