He found me right when I thought there wasn't any hope left. Right when I was all but ready to find a lonely flat with my cats and my grandmother's curtains, turned slightly yellow and worn from years in her windows, overlooking happy households I was doomed to never have myself. Yes, I was ready to be the lonely cat lady on the corner street, in that apartment south of Boston with a window seat in the eastern corner, I was ready to be alone. My figurative suitcases were packed, with the sense of predetermination of never being happy - truly. 1
And then he came along. With a smirk and a swagger he waltzed into my life...despite my protests. He spoke in poetry and prose and spun words from his dreams like they became the thread of life as he cast them out...but through his speeches and promises and stubborn attempts to soften my heart, through his kindness that made him seem unreal, doped up on some kind of ecclesiastical drug...he found me. A living, beating heart (who knew?) dripping in the juices of that bitter sweetness known as love lost and long gone.2
I cast every stone I had, and even then, dug through my pockets desperately searching for something to push him away. Because I had figured myself out already, I was a miserable person and certainly would stay that way, and no, I didn't really need a love. Not deep down. Because I wouldn't trust anymore. Love had boiled in me and then boiled over and left me burned at the age of sixteen - Just old enough and naive enough to be the things that tragic love songs are made of.3
Spinning his sonnets, he wove a web around me and pulled me (not really kicking and screaming anymore) into him. With those wings around me I spun, looking for that angel face, the one that finally destroyed the Jericho walls of my heart. 4
We never laid our lips on each other, never that classic skin-to-skin love that seems to follow young love stories like a shadow. Instead there echoed the silence of things never spoken. They didn't have to be, for we had seen enough humanity in the other to know that silence was sometimes golden. We understood the rain's whispers, pattering on the windows as we drove through lonely streets, lit up by the heartbeat of stoplights and a late-night restaurant along the way. 5
In that silence we grew to love each other - As love should always be. Enough to spill over what we could hold, what could be contained between two souls. We would have adopted the world. 6
Although I held him for only a very short time, I have him next to me as much as anyone ever has. When the rain dances that light waltz across the windows, on those nights where couples curl together in a single unending organic promise, I cry and laugh and smile through bittersweet tears and remember the man that truly owned my heart.7
Author notes
...you know who you are. love you.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Beautiful!
Beautiful narrative write. There are many great descriptive phrases that make this piece unique. The one that stick in my thought is "the Jericho walls of my heart..." The kindred spirit quality of real life forming a bond and not just romance has a surreal feel to it, in spite of 'spinning sonnets, rain, and late night drives' It's almost an ache, as another becomes so much a part of being. -
Beautiful...absolutely beautiful. I'm speechless. Thanks so much for entering and good luck!
Cassie -
Beautiful
I find I have no words to tell you how much I love this.I once I had a friend who made me feel this same way but maybe not so much in a romance.But as far as the security and the understanding that I use to throw off in fear of not knowing how to trust, I remember him. I miss him. You brought his face to my mind again. Thanks for this piece. Mind if I print it? I'm no phsyco I just want to print it, this is truely beautiful!!!! -
WOW this was Excellent, and sure to be a winner! God luck to you!
hugs and blessings, Sandi
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this is amazing Kier.
that pretty much sums it up
<3
Janine -
Who is the man of which you speak? He must be some crazy poet that really gets around. Is is Geoffrey...or William... or maybe Samuel. Who is capable of spreading such love?
Seriously though. This is a very well written piece. You have a wonderful talent there. I love all of the allusion. Excellent write. -
Perfect!
I agree, nothing forced. I wosh that this could just keep going, and yet, I am glad that it ended when and how it did. Is that odd? My verdict? Perfect. -
I love your imagery... and the word "waltz" is absolutely lovely. I have to say, this sounds like a lovely but sad story... and I agree, the run-on sentences make it sound like it's real, not just a story that's written then forgotten about. I love your style. Keep on writing... - sky
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wow.
that is one of the most beautiful things you've written, I think. there's nothing forced about it, and even the run on sentences add to the charm of it coming straight from the heart. -
told ya. run on sentences and prose. :-p.
...are you gonna use it? i might work with it a little more. wrote it while i was waiting for ali to get dressed so we could go for chinese.
Edited on Feb 27, 1:31 p.m. because ''. -
"When they asked how far love goes...
When my job's done, you'll be the one who knows."
Let's say that it's something like someone would find in caves? The rarest of jems.
Because we wouldn't dare bring such a thing down to the term 'marriage'. They don't know what we have.
I love you too, Kier. Thank you
. I'm feeling so good.
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wonderful
A very beautiful story. It is touching and full of emotion in just the right spots.
A real joy to read.
thanks,
John
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