Amorous suicide – June

June was the first girl I loved. We met at university. Because of our appearance people nicknamed us Sonny and Cher, although there was no resemblance. June was a blond and I was a red head. I had never been so happy in my life. I still remember our first kiss. And the smell of her hair. And the feel of her small breast in my hand.  And then I lied to her. And that’s how it began to  unravel. I wrote her during the summer that I had a relationship with another girl. (There was no other girl.) I think that I was scared.  June had started to look at wedding rings. And houses. And I thought that I couldn’t get married without ever tasting the fruit from other trees. (What a brutal metaphor but young men think like that.) She later married an old boyfriend. Someone she’d been friends with before we met.  And I rode off into the future. Wondering why I had committed amorous suicide. Looking back, I smile and shake my head. At that foolish young man with the denim jeans. And the cowboy heart.