There he was. Tall, dark and handsome. A complete personification of what masculinity entails or as Kim would put it, “six o’clock on the dot”. Spontaneous, unpredictable and free spirited, it was only a matter of time till he swept her off her feet with his charm and in no time, she found herself fighting a futile battle of resistance. Hers was a unique taste fore she entertained only the Rarest kind and he was not so far off the bar. She was complicated in her simplicity and was a blend of an addictable drug and the black rose of Turkey.
As captivating as he was to her naked eye, as dangerous as he was to her heart and as appealing as he was to her broken self, it was clear he wasn’t all that she longed for. He was no Prince Charming neither was he what she dreamt of in a winter night, but he was one thing. He was the “it” or is it that he possessed the “it” that made her stick around for so long. The ‘it’ that kept her awake at night. The ‘it’ that gave her the strength to tolerate bullshit. The “It” that made her helplessly fall for him and the same ‘it’ that was the cause of a few drops of tears before bed. Till now she has not been really sure what the “it” was or is.
She had never really admired easy. She always thought easy was boring. And easy, he did not give her. He gave her that which was attractive to her broken self. That which kept her brain as restless as ever, that which made her think deep and hard and above all that which kept her on her feet. But could it be that it became all too overwhelming for her?
Stone cold, he portrayed himself but each time she stared straight into his eyes, she would be taken to another world, a different world, one that he did not like to talk about. He oozed of mystery, enticing mystery and attractive mystery. From the seven strong walls, to the naggings, from the heart bores to the never ending tantrums, theirs are memories worth keeping.
The thought of letting go terrifies her as she knows not was lies ahead. The thought of someone else holding him the way she did makes her sick to her stomach. The heart ache she gets on a calm sunny day when memories flood in, convince her she might actually have felt something deep for his person.
Bona fide she hopes all will be well with her.
It wasn’t a second cut, it was a deep opening
on an already existing wound and she can
only hope will heal someday.
Theirs was not a relationship nurtured, it was one that withered before it even bloomed. A homeless love that will always have constant what ifs engraved to it.
“You and me and never us, a complicated series of almost interactions.”