You smell like cigarettes and mint. Your hair is a structural masterpiece, and your smile is a reminder of the heart break all over again. A stake in the gut, a sick, twisted knot. A flashback of the days we spent in each other’s arms, not wanting to leave, tripping into the next dimension, ashtrays on the floor. The evenings that went by in laughter under the stars, two bodies inching closer bit by bit, ending in a full blown explosion. You were a ticking time bomb, and I was addicted to the adrenaline.
He’s the peace I feel in my chest when I stare at the ocean; the calm of the waves, even when they strike the shore, soaking me. A warm glow that’s absolutely ordinary, even unexciting, until you take notice, until it spreads all over and lights up your life. He is the early morning treks, when I’m cribbing about how five in the morning is an ungodly hour. He is the Saturday morning instead of a Friday night, take out and Sleepless in Seattle instead of a load of shots and dancing with strangers.
People search for a love so legendary, it is worthy of being written about. I found that with you. I lived that with you. And I realized that my true search was for a love that I could give my all to without fearing it being ripped away from me.
A love that felt comfortable, that felt like it belonged.