(John and Jennifer in Monterey in 1992.)

Almost love in California.

I was your Hemingway and you were my Agnes. We were free falling into a love that could never be. I wanted you forever and you wanted to be okay. A soldier love, held on by a whisper and a wish. I brought you to California in the Winter of 1992, and we drank Irish coffee on the Monterey pier. I knew as we held hands and talks. I saw our two worlds being separated and my sweetest miracle, running to new dreams. And I was alone. We kissed often at the San Francisco airport, and I saw in your eyes, great sadness. You told me I loved California and thank you for bringing me to you. I watched you walk away with soft tears in your eyes and I knew. I would never see you again. I learn this day. The goodbyes not said shall break your heart forever.   

                     Almost love in California.

I took you to Big Sur, we watched the Winter waves, holding hands and knowing a kind silence. We drank wine at the River Inn, and I watched your beautiful eyes, enjoy the beauty of the river nearby. We danced, shared laughter at the Santa Cruz pier and I loved the joy and happiness in your eyes.
The carnival was alive and you waltzed on the beach with me. I remember you told me. You are too kind to me, and I will always love you, I will always remember you. We drank the Irish coffee every night for three nights in Monterey Irish pub and we held hands and we talks of great dreams. I held you so tightly and I heard you cry when you thought I was asleep.
I saw our two-world falling apart and I knew. Just smile, breathe in your words and make every kiss a memory. I knew these days,  almost love, was near us in California. Today I know, I wasn’t brave enough. I know no take backs and If I could. I should have fought teeth and bones to keep you in my life. I didn’t.
Dancing Coyote