About a Girl
Not with the fleeting kind of love:
The kind that comes and goes when the weather changes from sunshine to storm.
No, not that kind of love, because if her feelings were so easily moved they would have been no indication of true love to begin with.
She loved him with every cell in her mind, crinkle in her nose, crease in her cheeks, pulsation of her heart, down to the depths of her loins, the tingling of her finger tips and the wiggling of her toes.
She loved him so ferociously and so passionately that her feelings would overwhelm her and send her straight to tears when they were not talking and into a coma when he was away.
It was a love so strong that there could be a million men blatantly fawning over her, but her eyes could only see him.
It was not because of the money that he possessed.
He had no fancy car and a career had not yet begun.
It was not because of his flashy attire, for he often preferred a hoodie and sweats.
It was because of the look he always had that impacted her to the highest degree:
One of sadness, of loneliness, of sincerity, of sorrow.
It was the way he mumbled when he spoke,
And the way those two stubborn dreads always fell in his eyes.
It was his demeanor and his temperament;
The way he stayed silent and kept to himself,
But never stopped watching, never stopped thinking, never stopped knowing.
It was in his modesty, how he had sporadic moments of typical male ego surface but never fully grasped how remarkable he really was.
It was in the moments where he could look at her and she knew in her gut and in her spirit that whatever she was feeling, he was feeling too.
It was in his simple acts of giving that made a monumental difference —
When he gave her the Nike hoodie he loved because she loved it too,
Or when he handed her an ordinary seashell on the beach just because.
She loved that hearing the name “Chris” caused her to break out into a smile,
Or how seeing the word “hey” pop onto her screen put her mind at ease.
She hated how this love consumed every bit of her.
She hated how it was so easily shown in the way she talked about him, when she looked at him.
He was essentially a part of every one of her thoughts, and she so desperately desired to be a part of every one of his.
It was not the fact that he was a part of her life that caused her anguish,
It was the fact that her feelings depicted him as all of it.
She was forced to settle with bouts of detachment, disconnection, miscommunication and disdain when all she wanted was growth, openness, honesty, consistency and trust.
It hurt her deeply to feel all that she did, every single day of her life, constantly having to question if he still reciprocated the same.
They were two totally different people, yet alike in so many ways.
They shared the same stubborn streak and sense of independence.
They both felt the need to do everything on their own.
They both kept quiet about their burdens, about fears, about things they thought others would not understand.
Yet, she always remained more expressive than him in regards to their intimate matters.
The one undisputable common denominator that they did share was the same burning desire to have each other time and time again.
She needed to know that she was still wanted, and marveled at the fact that he always did.
He often said he wanted her to be happy and would be okay if she ended up with someone else,
But she wanted to believe that he craved her, and only wanted her lips, hands and skin on him.
Some days she would feel like there was no way in the world that they could ever go back to being how they were.
They would go days without speaking,
And for every doubt she had there was a defining moment or a collection of moments that would remind her of how beautiful he really was, and how he was going through this daunting process of opening up and breaking down barriers with her and nobody else.
She was still frustrated because her dreams of their future together demanded something that only time could bring into full bloom.
So day in and day out, she battled with love.
She came to the realization that hate and love were actually one in the same.
She constantly cried for him and over him.
She worried and prayed for him.
She needed their eyes to meet.
She needed to touch him and tell him how much she missed him, because although affection was something he wanted to hate so badly, she felt that he loved receiving it from her.
He was the only complicated story she wanted to read.
She had it engrained in her mind that she could not live without him.
Once he had entered her life she knew she never wanted him to leave.
She was not young and she was not old,
She was a woman who knew that this one person had already changed her forever.
Maybe they would grow a part before they came back together again.
Maybe they were not meant to be at all.
The thought of him not being hers not only now but also in the future haunted her every single day,
But she did not give up on the mystery she fell in love with.
She loved him so unconditionally and so transparently that she honestly never could.
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