The Agony of Love

Today I saw a pair of lovers laying their agony out in a railway Station. I was seated in the great hall of the Liverpool Street Station waiting for my train. There were people rushing back and forth and amidst the constant motion I noticed two figures standing trapped in time, very still in their agony. They were just the most beautiful, belonging pair you have seen. He was tall with auburn curly hair and handsome face with a bristle, even for me, remarkably beautiful. He had on decent brown shoes, well fitting jeans and a grey jumper with patterns on it, equally well fitting. She had dark curly hair left long with a tanned well chiseled face. She had on brown swede shoes with heels, figure hugging jeans and a black jumper again beautifully fitted. They were both sun tanned and looked good with each other, both slim and complimenting the other in height. She despite her slim and tall figure and the heels was half a head shorter than him. If they were not stars on a show being filmed just then, they should have been. That was what drew me to them at first. Then I realised here was drama unfolding.

They were too far for me to hear what they were saying in the din but I could see them very clearly in front of me. They were deep in conversation and too deep in their own despair to notice anything around them. I was watching their body language. She moved her hands a lot from shoving her hair back and making a motion of helplessness, her hands down and open to him, then she put them in an appealing gesture to an almost prayer position before moving it away to clasp them to her chest. They seemed to be disputing an insurmountable problem. He stood still, sometimes shaking his head saying no, but very gently. He was red faced as she was despite the tan. They were standing with their sides to me. At one point she turned her head towards me and looked beyond me, seeing nothing, but her face showing raw sadness. She was not the crying kind. Her strong face said so. But there was no doubting her abject despair. They were about three feet apart. He was not willing to say yes to whatever she was asking, but he only shook his head from side to side gently so as not to hurt her. He stood very erect and sometimes crossed his legs at the ankles as he stood and she mirrored him. What struck me was they were like statues in motion, standing feet together always almost like they were posing, their posture at all stages flawless. I just thought what perfection! Even in their agony. Standing three feet apart they had eyes only for each other and words only for each other. She daintily crossed her ankles as she stood, not ever slouching, standing tall. This went on for about 40 minutes. I could not believe their patience with each other as they gave each other time to have their say. These were a pair of mature civilised kids. They were in their mid twenties I assumed.

I knew they were lovers and I was waiting for them to hug at any stage. But their problem was all consuming and they had to sort it out in a mature fashion. Hugging before solving the crisis would have been subtle coercion. She waved her arms gently to emphasize what she was saying, not in anger but in explanation. He crossed his arms at times. He let them hang down at other times, always looking at her and looking like his heart was breaking too. And you know what I kept thinking? They both had the most beautiful eyelashes I have seen on a couple together.

I tried not to stare but I was so consumed by it all and they were never going to notice anyway. There were no violent head movements, no drama, no raised voices, just the unraveling of their agony in a public place in slow privacy.

At one stage they moved a little closer but still not too close. The discussion went on till he reached out and held her hand by the fingers across the gap. He twisted the fingers in his hands as they talked. By that familiarity I knew they were very close. And I waited, and I waited, urging them to hug.

At last it came; that hug. It may not have resolved anything but what a beautiful hug! They stood still, close together, she her head on his shoulders, her face covered by her hair and he clasping her close, his hands gently stroking her back. Apart from the slow movement of his hand they were absolutely still in this vast cavernous, swirling place with the crowds moving all around them un-noticing the stillness of the lovers. The hug lasted a long time, as if they were loath to let go, as if this was their last hug, she still with her head buried in her own grief and he looking desperately concerned for her. I had visions of the camera swirling round them, recording that very heartbreaking moment. I so wanted to video the scene but that would have been desecration, taking advantage of their moment of despair.

And still the couple hugged, standing still as statues, tall and beautiful, with their very human emotions bursting through!

They never kissed. They reluctantly let go of each other and him leading her holding her fingers, they walked away past me heading towards the exit. Their carriage said they had not resolved the issue. They did not look happy. They just went out of my life just as suddenly as they had entered it. I so wanted to run after them and say blessings and good luck or whatever came to my head but that would have been too awful. They would have wondered what this well meaning little man had to do with them. But in that moment they had entered my life as if they had been youngsters I had seen grow up.

And the despair of their love, I knew so well, Oh so well. That’s what makes me weep for them so. I needed to write this as a memorial to their love and to keep their memory fresh so I may at least through my wishes here give them all they desire, the happiness, the fulfillment they so deserve.

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This entry was published on August 17, 2014 at 9:19 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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