Twenty-three years and a lifetime ago, she made a choice that has haunted her every day since.  It was paradox, really, the ultimate in self-preservation and narcissism yet simultaneously, extreme sacrifice.  At the time, she only understood how it would serve her; how it would allow her the indulgence to live out the fairytale life she had constructed to counter the nightmare she lived instead.  To outsiders, she was living a fabled existence, but those within the Disney-manicured gardens and stuccoed walls knew better–lies, deceit, inconsistencies, and poison-tipped word-daggers that left invisible scars.  Years later, she finally lifted the veil to realize her motive had been undefinable love, the hope of more for someone who had nothing to give her in return.  A love that only intensified with time, not based on merit or emotion but just because.  A love that might only be met with disgust or contempt or anger or perhaps worst of all, indifference.  Soon she would know:  in 72 minutes, for the first time since his arrival, she would see her firstborn son.

Ack!  I don’t know how to write fiction!!  But, just like all you non-poets who step out on thin ice to write poetry for Pensieve’s Poetic License (or even Friday’s 40), I’m venturing into unchartered waters for Woodlandmama’s (A Monkey in the Wrong Tree) Fun Monday theme.  She’d love to have you join in–write your own "unusual love story", then comment to her so she can add you to the list!

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