There was nothing spectacular about her, they’d say. She’s got a long list of short-term ex-lovers, I hear. She curses like a sailor and lies like a convict, they’d gossip. Too many times, she’d disappear, I’ve noticed. But there was something about my girl that was like inhaling fiery freedom; the initial sting, with the settling warmth - quietly creeping in my veins like the rise of sun, flammable as most chemicals be, weightless as a ship sailing on roaring seas.
She loved me like a mad girl on the loose; with fingers that could heal and lips that just swoon. And everyday I lie in bed next to her and hear her breathe and realize the heartaches now made sense, if all that pain was in exchange for all I have now - her, and the life I’ve chosen to leave - to finally, live.
My darling, I had not been able to love recklessly - I’m a man of construct and plans, I do not believe in destiny, I am far too proud to let my walls down; I will not be outsmarted, I cannot take failure, not most especially, any more pain.
But with you, I am fearless. I love you.