My Soul Twin

My love for him was like a rare, exquisite wine that you're reluctant to open and instead guard, save, and secretly look forward to drinking; but always you postpone the savouring of it, setting it aside for a special occasion that never comes, because for this wine no occasion ever seems good enough. And you save and save it, until one day, for some stupid reason, the bottle breaks and the wine spills onto the ground. Is irretrievably gone. What remains is a mixture of regret, grief, the unspecified longing for something lost, and the hope of finding precisely this wine again somewhere, someday, and drinking it all at once, in a single gulp.