Strange. Dark. Quaint.

Strange enough that when our sun-drowned paths met,
I was too in love with the extraordinary.
You defined all that I couldn't be,
The 'other' I strongly recommended
Over pizza conversations.
So much that my 'self' could
Never separate itself,
From the boldest hue of
An idea that was you.
You lived in an age older than ours,
You belong there, I promise.
And when we lay in the green lush,
Too dark now because the night was setting in,
You held your guitar in your hand,
Strumming The Beatles, how cliche!
How two souls found solace,
In burnt memories and rusting pasts..
You are quaint, my subject.
You are definitive of one-of-a-kinds.
I guess I was falling in love
With the antagonist.
You can't blame me,
I always have.
The villains are always better.
The darker, the cozier.
The darker, the realer.
The darker, the quainter.
Strange that you were extraordinary,
Strange how I never completed my research.
Strange how you and I are similar, yet different.
Strange that quaintness echoed a tune too familiar.