Spring is capricious. She slips in unnoticed, then the moment you catch the faintest whiff of her perfume, she skedaddles right out the door, shy and laughing gaily behind her cupped palm. She flirts, she sways, she peeks through the window, then darts back into the woods. In every tantalizing waft of warm wind against your face she causes you to yearn for her, deep into the center of your core.
And suddenly, without warning, she leaves you bereft, with no explanation as to her whereabouts.
I've been dumped, truly and well. And I can't even hate her for it, I love her so much. I just want her back.