Have I told you that you’re the clearest thought that settles somewhere in the back of a shadowed mind, and gently, inch by inch, lights it up, until I’m smiling again though my eyes are bloodshot and I’m staring like someone catatonic, looking through the phases of my life?
You may not notice the smile, but it’s there, and the clarity of your love is like a beautiful, minimalistic piano piece by Einaudi or Allevi. It’s serene and infuses me with a faint glow that crescendoes, and it’s more than a jaded heart can hope for.
I’ve walked dark alleyways, hoping for a cleansing from madness that possesses, but I only lose my way, and I’m trapped in a vicious circle, walking the same places repeatedly, the downpour chastising me. But then with soaked clothes, I remember that there’s more than a frightening, agonising status quo.
I remember you. Your grace and steel-blue strength, your tranquil yet sturdy resolve, your brown eyes possessing an allure that’s both sensual and fiery, your way of handling the most complex situations with the simplest intuition, your beauty that draws me away from every other woman I’ve known, and I make my way home, feverish from the cold, and you pull me to you, despite it all, and kiss me, and then this house we live in transforms—the muted bulbs become chandeliers, the worn couches become luxurious, the hard bed becomes soft, and the dust and echoes of trauma dissipate, and when we make love, it’s the apex of a together actualisation, it’s the epitome of a together transcendence, because it’s deeper than lust.
It’s a bond we’ve forged over years of an almost us, to taking the step and constructing something that’s standing despite each storm of tribulation, despite each fire of unresolved hurt and bitterness, and I know we’ll heal, not because of the time we spend together, but because of what we share.
Photo by Thomas Vimare on Unsplash
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