She was a storm in the middle of summer; with a heart full of raging passion. She was the laughter within a joke.
She was power, she was love, she was ambition. She was the fear that dwells in the hearts of brave men and women. She had a face that told of destruction, like the tragic tales of Samson and Delilah. She would pace through the streets and you’d hear the winds whisper nothing but her charm.
She was crazy in her own right, but she was a masterpiece nonetheless.
The first time I saw her she had just taken off her mask; right there in front of me she stood, in her own skin, vulnerable and raw. Finally I could see her scars that told of pain and heartache; by God, she was BEAUTIFUL!
At last, I understood. She did not need to be changed, she needed to be appreciated, for her darkness rather than her light.
Did I fall for her?
Me: (boyishly smiling) I did. Countless times, over and over. Was it the moment we talked on phone up until 4:00 AM and neither of us wanted to hang up? When she couldn’t stop smelling the back of my neck telling me how much I smelt like “home”? I don’t know.
One moment stood out though, it was an early morning, before her day began. I saw her pull out her Bible, went down on her knees and began to pray, unknowing I was watching.
A tear dropped. In that moment, I knew, she was meant to be mine, no matter what. Unfortunately, at the time, she wasn’t mine to begin with; she loved another, but shared a divine connection with me.
One thing is for sure, one day, she will be mine and when that time comes I’ll be ready; ready to appreciate her amazingly ginormous loving heart. To get there I need to be able to find my way; to grow to her level of understanding. So I let her go.
After all, don’t all the best love stories have a tragic tale that makes it all worthwhile in the end? Maybe this is mine.
I’m happy if she’s happy, even if she is with another..at least that’s what I tell myself each night.
Does this make me a hopeless romantic? Maybe not, I’m just a regular guy looking for love.