When my wife and I first started dating, it was an odd relationship. It had to be. She was my college roommate (or well, housemate being more accurate). She was exiting a relationship, going through a lot of hard emotional issues. There were some sour feelings that the two of us were getting together (the two strangest sources being one roommate who to the day probably claims we tricked him and from a couple of women who seemed almost jealous that I was with someone, though they had made it clear they wanted nothing to do with me as far as relationshipwise was concerned). In the end, I think a lot of people looked at it as being doomed towards failure.
This poem references a moment right before we started dating. The "preamble" week pretty much put the writing on the wall. In the aforementioned moment, I was telling her about how the past and the present and the future all fed upon one another. For some reason, I went to punctuate this by kissing her on her cheeks, and apparently one of the kisses brushed half against her lips. It was something I did not notice, but she did. It would have been our first kiss. It was actually after this point in time when I thought maybe we should be together. When this event occurred, we were still more or less innocent friends.
