She wants to set herself on fire, set his soul on fire too, it was mean, not only to her but all around him. She’d spend most of her younger years praying, praying she would meet a man half as her first love.
She believed in her dreams, in the beauty of the stars, in night skies where the bright moon shone, and in his eyes, she saw a perfection, she then knew he had been the one.
She was sixteen, he was in his late twenties. He had a beared one she only saw in movies, he had a good height, and his skin resembeled the color of honey.
He had a lean body, he worked a tad out, masculine yet femine, he was beautiful, and she assumed his soul was such, beautiful.
That’s how love stories begin, right? A girl in huge glasses and a prince by her side. The tale didnt last long.
She was twenty, he had just clocked past thirty, he needed a woman, a wife, someone to mother him children.
Four years, was enough time, for her to know she found her one. So she wore her veil, walked down the isle, said i do, and an year later a mother to two bouncing babies.
Her first love, was no where near sight to witness it all, but she knew he was watching, it’s only him that could be the brightest of stars. And so she thought, in a husband now a father, she would see more of her own, her own father.
She was wrong, he wasn’t even close, to the man she first loved. In her maternity room, he was no where near sight.