I did it, i fell in love. I thought that I would fly, but I was wrong, I fell, fell so hard that a crack exists the place my heart is. I spread out my wings and tried this new journey of love, I was on a high that only I and him could understand best. He brought out the best of me, said the things no one else could tell me. For a moment i knew he was my perfect match. I was taken from his rib, he was my fantasy turned reality.
The good moments hardly last though, that was before the falling, the shuttering of those fragile bits in me, that place most people call the heart, my heart shattered into a million pieces, but do not worry about me, i will piece it up, in a perfect shape that only i will know its edges. I will overcome it all, the falling and bruising those deep places, that i had left for no one but my self. Do not worry about me, but i will just be fine, I will heal, and those places that i never knew about their existence will just be a memory, you will be a memory.
Let me try and paint this in black and white, explain a feeling i never felt before, a satisfaction that i never new could exist: This time it had nothing to do with the quenching of bodily cravings, it had nothing to do with his perfect set of eyes, or his tiny mouth covered in mustache. It had nothing to do with his perfect height, how i’d fit perfectly under his embrace. It had nothing to do with his tan, or the shade of his skin, which even glowed on cold mornings.
Heart breaks hurt, they hurt too much, more so when the healing is taking place. Its two years now since i last set my eyes on him, the one i knew was my perfect match, and now when i thought i had perfectly pieced all the shattered pieces of my heart together, when i thought that i had made him a memory, is when i realize, i had never in the first place let him go. He still held those pieces of me together, and i hoped deep down, that one day, the happy times we had, him my fantasy reality would come to being again, and that we would have happy afters, like a fairy tale, where I would have been his princess and he my prince.
Two years down, and when i try to use what they call my heart, i feel a deep piercing pain, the same pain I felt two years ago a day in June, when we both agreed that we were toxic for each other, when we both agreed, we were better off as individuals on our own, not an item, a pair what most people would call us. Yet at the same time we were so good for each other. But the good ones, the good moments, and the good people never stay an eternity.
One day i will write about you, and i hoped today would have been the ideal day to write about you, but then when the healing has never taken place, how can i write about you? How can i vividly explain the moments that made our toxicity to each other known, i hope one day, when i find i better version of myself, not an equal version of myself (you) then i will write about us, about the imperfect perfection that you gave so well.
One day, i will write about the fire in me, a fire you so well lit: and I hope that another two years down, you will just be a memory, but not a part of me that so much makes me not dream, or believe that i can fly, fly in love, and not fall in love.