Writing Bones

Bones was my best friend growing up, my lover in college, my partner in life, and my husband in death. But above all that, he was my only friend and still is. Even though he's gone now. We both left each other then within a few hours came back, wholly belonging to one another. Unable and unwilling to escape, nor was there anything to "escape" from; our romance was freedom itself manifested in countless stolen kisses, intimate touches, and deep embraces. And when we made love it could be as freakish as a carnival show or as tender as two cats caressing each other in the quicksilver warmth of a moon beam. We collided and meshed and viciously ground into one another's souls. Neither of us wished it would ever stop. Sure we had our brief pauses, but we always came running back together in the end. I would have followed him to the ends of the Earth and beyond and I know he'd have done the same for me. If only Life would have given us a chance.
Life isn't a glue that holds people together. It's a roiling, raging river one minute and a calm, rippling stream the next. But it's always moving, never truly resting. Life tears people apart, takes them far away from each other in different directions, and they don't see each other again for a very, very long time, if ever again.