She fell in love with him accidentally, he was not the sort she dreamt about when she said her warm prayers at night, he did not possess the virtues of a quasi – saint, his heart was not pure, his intentions were never of the clear sort, he did not pleasure in doing good for the sake of goodness, he was not tall, handsome and everything nice. He was tall, but definitely not the tall she thought about those nights when she went to bed, if handsome was a word, he was the antonym, and nice was what you would call the grinch in his presence.
But she loved him, she loved the impurity of his heart and not by choice, the way he smiled and was confident in his unhandsome face, but perhaps what caught her attention was his poetic mind, his voice could throw an angel off the sky in purity, his dress sense betrayed his waywardness and total lack of care, he wore his average height so well people had to stand beside him to realize he was not as tall as they had imagined. His charisma and confidence won her over to his side, and every day with him seemed like a second, and she never thought of herself without him. She loved him totally and completely, she had taught herself to turn a blind eye to his debaucheries.
In all fairness to the man, he cared for her in his way, but nature always takes over when one least expects, and he never apologized for it, at his Casanova ways, he felt all the women saw in him the same thing she saw, for his extreme alcoholism he blamed it on his job but didn’t feel bad about it, his drug habits, he didn't realize were a problem, after all a little herb never killed anyone. Their coupling was an odd one , but the song “ebony and ivory” could apply to them, one was of light as the other of darkness and together, it was a match made by God as a joke!
After 2 years of delicious bliss, moments of happiness and lifetimes of sadness, she decided she might be loosing herself, and so she left him. He neither cried or freaked out, he didn’t try to stop her and for many months, the thought of her walking out the door in slow steps and him not trailing after haunted her, she would spot him in public and instantly have a fever, and many times she asked herself if she could love like that again, she decided she would never look for love, because she knew where her heart was and it was pointless trying.
But she loved him, she loved the impurity of his heart and not by choice, the way he smiled and was confident in his unhandsome face, but perhaps what caught her attention was his poetic mind, his voice could throw an angel off the sky in purity, his dress sense betrayed his waywardness and total lack of care, he wore his average height so well people had to stand beside him to realize he was not as tall as they had imagined. His charisma and confidence won her over to his side, and every day with him seemed like a second, and she never thought of herself without him. She loved him totally and completely, she had taught herself to turn a blind eye to his debaucheries.
In all fairness to the man, he cared for her in his way, but nature always takes over when one least expects, and he never apologized for it, at his Casanova ways, he felt all the women saw in him the same thing she saw, for his extreme alcoholism he blamed it on his job but didn’t feel bad about it, his drug habits, he didn't realize were a problem, after all a little herb never killed anyone. Their coupling was an odd one , but the song “ebony and ivory” could apply to them, one was of light as the other of darkness and together, it was a match made by God as a joke!
After 2 years of delicious bliss, moments of happiness and lifetimes of sadness, she decided she might be loosing herself, and so she left him. He neither cried or freaked out, he didn’t try to stop her and for many months, the thought of her walking out the door in slow steps and him not trailing after haunted her, she would spot him in public and instantly have a fever, and many times she asked herself if she could love like that again, she decided she would never look for love, because she knew where her heart was and it was pointless trying.
6 months of heartache and painkillers later she decided that she was over him, she told everyone that she was ready to move on, and they doubted and dared, and to prove it, she picked up a phone and dialed a random number of a boy in an address book.
The stranger on the other end made her feel good, made her forget how much she'd suffered, how she dreaded getting out of bed in the morning and refused to respond to early morning greetings, because nothing was good about the morning, the day, the evening, nothing was good. He spoke and she listened, she talked and he responded; knew all the right things to say, made her feel like she hadn't gone through moments of sadness, like a few months ago her heart wasn't shattered into a million pieces and as she waited to have it picked up, no one came to help her mend her broken heart (not that she really wanted to mend it). She told him everything she'd wanted to tell anyone these past few months; about all the crazy things that had happened to her, at work, on her way home; at the gym, when she visited her friends and family and they said silly things and she simply smiled because she knew they wouldn't get it. He laughed with her, he got it. She knew that she could move on.
It was day break, and she'd spent her whole night talking to a stranger and had planned to meet up with him over the weekend, maybe catch a movie at the cinema or walk aimlessly around town exploring a tiny food house where brunch was served by waitresses who still asked if people wanted white or brown toast and automatically buttered the toast. They ended the conversation on a good note, and she felt great. Got dressed, put on some lipgloss and bounced herself to the office; greeted everyone she met good morning like she was in a viagra commercial, made her way to her desk, logged on only to see an email from the former Mister;
"I am sorry. I love you. I need You"
Ain't life a b***h!
The stranger on the other end made her feel good, made her forget how much she'd suffered, how she dreaded getting out of bed in the morning and refused to respond to early morning greetings, because nothing was good about the morning, the day, the evening, nothing was good. He spoke and she listened, she talked and he responded; knew all the right things to say, made her feel like she hadn't gone through moments of sadness, like a few months ago her heart wasn't shattered into a million pieces and as she waited to have it picked up, no one came to help her mend her broken heart (not that she really wanted to mend it). She told him everything she'd wanted to tell anyone these past few months; about all the crazy things that had happened to her, at work, on her way home; at the gym, when she visited her friends and family and they said silly things and she simply smiled because she knew they wouldn't get it. He laughed with her, he got it. She knew that she could move on.
It was day break, and she'd spent her whole night talking to a stranger and had planned to meet up with him over the weekend, maybe catch a movie at the cinema or walk aimlessly around town exploring a tiny food house where brunch was served by waitresses who still asked if people wanted white or brown toast and automatically buttered the toast. They ended the conversation on a good note, and she felt great. Got dressed, put on some lipgloss and bounced herself to the office; greeted everyone she met good morning like she was in a viagra commercial, made her way to her desk, logged on only to see an email from the former Mister;
"I am sorry. I love you. I need You"
Ain't life a b***h!
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