We met at the worst possible time. I noticed him in a beer soaked dorm room where he talked about wearing Valentine’s Day boxers for his girlfriend. I was sitting on the couch in my current lover’s room. We didn’t speak again for 6 months. But I never forgot that moment.
Our first night together wasn’t awkard. It wasn’t strange. We didn’t miss each other. It was like coming home, a feeling that would happily haunt me for the rest of my life. A welcomed ghost, finding solace in my rib cage.
I told my mom that week that I’d marry him.
What I didn’t know was how much we would challenge each other. I didn’t know that meeting the love of my existence would mean staring my demons in the face. Being with him means some of the deepest and excruciating moments of truth.
We were nothing but stark glass, crystal clear mirrors for each other. An IV of end-all love hitting the bloodstream in one quick swift and knocking you on your ass leaving you dazed in ecstasy and fearful for your life without it. And at the age of 17, you run from that.
We ran until we were red in the face. Buckled knees. Deflated lungs.
He would go on to hurt me in some of the shrewdest ways. And I would break his heart in two.
A broken down tango of lo0se joints, glazed eyes and tight grips. Two dolls falling apart at the seams, desperately trying to conceal their unhinged limbs and scratched porcelain.
I can’t say there was a day that changed it all. A moment in space that shifted ever so slightly, enough for realizations to pebble down upon us like rice at a wedding.
What I found was my feet on the ground and his next to mine. A steady breath. Wandering hands.
We examined the scratches and the rawness. We laid together for days licking the wounds like a pack of wolves, only leaving the other’s side to howl at the moon.
We found real beauty in our path, however unconventional it was. We rejoiced in that fact. We thanked our demons and sent them on their way. We propped up pillows, placed fur throws and grew ferns in our souls and vowed to always call that home. A sacred sanctuary of truth. Running barefoot, hand in hand, through chaos.
I will never love another the way I love you. //