There are the people who take years to grow on us, like flowers adapting to the desert. Slowly but surely digging their roots into our hearts. Molding a memory of their melodic fragrance into the olfactory function of the mind, creating the strongest proactive memory of all the senses.

And then there are the people who in fraction of a second your souls have interconnected like a lock and key. Where the sound of interconnecting metal against metal is less like the scratching spoon and fork and more like the chain reaction of two vibrating cello strings.

I was, to your soul, a slow growing daisy, and you were my, already there, key. Our souls didn't fit, like dandelions in sidewalk cracks. We were just never were meant to be.