Friday, April 07, 2006
The lady and the gentlemen.
The first might always be the first; the first to love me, the first I loved, the first to break my heart. "Darling," he would call me, and now I allow no one else the liberty of using that word because it is solely his to call me by. Soon, three years will have come and gone. Somedays it hurts like the first day; but other days, I forget that he's gone. Those are the bad days. And I know, I know, that he will always be too many things to me, perfectly stored in the synapses of my longterm memory; too many untaintable, unspeakable things. These are the good things.
The next gentleman loves me in spite of the oceans and continents that separate us. We share so many things; love, loss, two countries, history, madness, blood. There is no one who understands the things of the past like he does; there is no one who provides the same comfort that he does - my refuge from these things that have moved us. And we have never been the kind to blatantly talk of all the things we feel, but there is an understanding between us that no one can take or break. Sometimes I think we stand on the outside, strangers alike, who don't quite know how to fit into the scene before us, and perhaps content to be foreigners, wanderers. And for this, and that, and everything else, I love and miss him dearly.
The last gentleman I never expected, and because of that, I sometimes still find myself holding my breath when he lies beside me. "Beautiful," he calls me, and never have I ever heard these words said in such brazen bareness, without motive or agenda; they make my skin tingle and my bones ache. And slowly but surely, he breaks me down, exposing all the lines of my skeletal design; the gentleman teaches me how to be weak. He makes me want to believe in the possible cohabitation of love and ever afters; because it is so much easier to believe this than to imagine the possibility of contentment without him. And he is right, we don't know what the future holds for us; but I know that I am safe now, and god, there is nothing more lovely than waking up to him.
sherry @ 12:30:00 pm
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