There are times when I think of you with a longing that I cannot fully express or now fulfill.  This should hardly surprise you.  You know me far too well for any of the random facets--broken bits of glass bottles--of my psyche to surprise you anymore.

That first day, when we talked--my memories of the rest of that day have slipped like water through the fingers of my brain, but our conversation is etched there like a diamond etches glass--crystalline.  I don't know if you remember.  It wasn't much--just the usual things people talk about when they are introduced by a mutual friend.  The weather (it was unusually hot), music, the latest football game, amusing things our friend had done.  Somehow, we made that last an hour.  A full hour, as the people around us became less and less real, ghost shapes seen only in shadow, and the universe itself became a small circle of light where we two alone sat.  You made the world go away for a little while.  And I loved you for it.

Our bed was always joyous--a place where the world was not only allowed to swerve around us, but was fervently beaten back by our passion.  But when I woke in the morning, you were always gone (I never knew where)--you always left quietly--you hated to disturb me, you said.  And I was left to cope as best I could with the raging madness of day to day life.  You always came back, though, quelling my tears, my mad ensorcelled dreams, my agony.  And then, you made the world go away for a little while--by your very presence and the fact of your existence--you breathed some other air which was not of this Earth.  And every time you came back I rejoiced--which amused you no end, for you could not, can not, imagine any world except the one you inhabited, the one that kept the mundane realm of mere mortals at bay.

And then the day came, as I knew in my heart of hearts it must.  You left one morning, and came no more to me.  And even this made the world recede from me--for I was furious within myself, and madmen have a world all their own.  As I came back to sanity, I wept like Rachel, who could not be comforted.

Who were you, woman of Faerie?

This was a nodeshell challenge from graceness

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