He has constellations in his eyes that even the cosmos herself would be proud of.
That’s how I got here, I guess. Before we start, I should probably warn you that I haven’t the slightest idea where “ here “ is. I’m sort of just floating around like autumn leaves in the wind.
There was nothing: no light, love, or joy. And then there was him. Suddenly everything and absolutely nothing made sense.
This is our story.
To truly tell it, I guess I should start at the beginning: me. Every person has a story about who they are and how they ended up wherever they are. My story starts in a small town called Cyprus Cove. Some people consider it trashy or run down, but I just call it home. It’s been home my entire life. I know it’s streets, highways, and dirt roads like the back of my hand.
The thing about home, is that there’s always at least one person who makes it that way.
Let me tell you about Ricky. ( he’s kind of important)
We met my freshman year of high school, at Cyprus Cove high school, but we never truly connected until my junior year. And then, like oxygen, he was everywhere. We were inseparable. He was home. And for two incredible years, he was mine. But knowledge comes with age, and we were both too young to know that you can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. A week after my 19th birthday, a year after I graduated high school, Ricky chose to let his demons win. He took his life and he also took a very large part of me with him.
So there I was, 19 and broken. What’s a girl to do?
Get married, apparently. Three months later, that’s exactly what I did. Before I continue, please believe that Daryn is a good man. Honorable, even. He joined the Army straight out of high school, and he makes a fine soldier. But when it comes to being a lover, there a certain things he just doesn’t know or want to do. Like honesty, loyalty, respect. I spent our entire one year marriage terrified of him. His temper could have scared a drill sergeant, and he knew it. I think he loved to see fear in my hazel eyes. I think he loved to hear my voice quiver whenever I strayed from the thirty-year plan he had for us.
Loving him was suicide; I simply had to leave.
So here we are. I’m twenty years old. I’ve burried my high school sweetheart, married and soon will be divorced, and I dropped out of college because reality was too big a pill to swallow.
And then- like magic- there was him.
Yep, that’s right, constellation boy. This one’s about you.
I won’t say your name, and I refuse to change it. You are too lovely to be described by names that mere mortals use and take for granted. You are too precious to be labeled with the measly 26 letters we have in our American alphabet. But for you I guess I’ll try.
I talked about my other lovers in past tense, because now that there’s you that is all they are: past.
You are the silver bow on my Christmas present. You are the beauty that’s there but doesnt often get noticed..
Because why would it? People fear reality. Real love. Real pain. Real life. And you are very, very real. Maybe that’s why I try to run. Maybe that’s why I’m in my room listening to some soft rock romance song, and writing meaningless paragraphs you’ll never even read. Because you’re too real, and it scares me.
I can’t forget the way your eyes light up when you look at me. I can’t forget the feeling of you staring at me while I pretend not to notice. I can’t forget the way you hold me against you when we hug, and I have to force myself to let go.
You are my own personal galaxy. Deep, dark, mysterious. I am captivated.
You put a spell on me. I can feel you with me, even when you’re not here. You are the love that makes all these other loves irrelevant.
You are what makes this place home…