Maybe Life Was All About Finding You

I met you when I was between heartbreak and healing. Somewhere in the middle, I found you – or maybe you found me. You were the quiet one in the corner, drawing me to you like some dark mystery that I had to solve. I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to study you, learn your face; the way your dark eyes carried all the light in the world, the way your face lines crease when you were thinking, the way your dimples show when you were really smiling.

You were exactly what I needed when we first stumbled into each other’s arms. You were a familiar adventure; I had been there before but couldn’t remember – like a trip I had taken long ago. You were home and a hotel all at once.

I wasn’t broken but I have been before – just like you had many times before me. I wasn’t so sure how loveable I was anymore, or perhaps deserved to be. You showed me I could be loved. And more importantly, you showed me that I still had a lot in me to love. You told me that even though there would be people who let me down, there would be someone else who will prove me wrong. And then you showed me.

You wore your heart on your sleeve and took time to understand your emotions. You make me feel so comfortable like perhaps we had met in a past life. I can never tell with you and that excites me. And maybe I was a little scared but you took my hand and said, “trust me” and we fell off the white cliffs together.

We tore up the town; we rewrote the stories that had become attached to the places where our hearts once rested. We chased each other through the city; we retraced old memories and left our footprints side by side. We built a fort in my bedroom; we sat around the fire and told our stories – loving, learning and losing. And then we made new stories.

My name doesn’t sound the same when you say it. My name sounds like both a melody and a curse word at the same time. You’re both ends of the spectrum, the obvious choice, and a risk. You’re the guy my mom warned me about, but she’s met you and now she loves you like you’re her son.

I lose myself in everything that you are.

And I can’t help myself.

You are intoxicating and I’m allergic to alcohol but I down you like a shot anyway. Maybe you are poison but isn’t life about finding something worth dying for?