Twenty-first

Six months ago, I sleep on my couch. Alone. Contemplation ringing in my ears. Thoughts of love, being mislead, being lied to, invoking the person I never wanted to become. I chased after him. Held onto him. Even though he let me go. I didn't realize it. I asked for one more night. Not to be with him, but to feel someone's prescense alongside of me. To not feel alone. To not feel so broken, and apart from everything I have ever known. I wouldn't succumb to slow withdrawal on his part. But alas, he ignored my calls. I stopped dropping by. I felt wronged. It hurt me. Even though I never harbored true, substantial feelings. I just wanted to quench my thirst of the loneliness that my life had become. I let it go. I carried on. Wounded pride. I played the same questions in my head, along with my saddest records of heartbreak. I smoked my cigarettes and dranked my red wine, sadly. Alone. Without anyone to confide in. Except my empty walls. Mascara smeared on my face. I was the saddest girl in the world, then.

But then, came a day. October twenty-first. I was told that I had to go on a "trip" for work. I didn't want to go. I was painfully shy, and the few friends and aquaintances I had made were not going to be there. I looked for somewhere to sit on the bus, and sat next to someone that I revered with idiocy. I felt out of place. My face was flushed. I wanted a smoke. I wanted more coffee. We arrived. And everyone piled out in an orderly fashion, breaking up into familiar cliques, and I stood alone. Looking for an anchor, a lifesavor. I was drowning in the sea of unknown faces.

He stood there. On that rainy, cold day. And I glanced up at his marvelous blue eyes, as I pleaded with mine, for something. For friendship. For company. For salvation. I wanted and he materialized. I asked him, and he abided. He spent the whole day with me. Making me laugh, and not feel so silly. He made me comfortable. He made me feel warm tingling deep in my belly. He made my palms sweat, and made me envision us kissing. There. With everyone to see. I wanted to say these things to him. I wanted to touch his hand, to feel his large man hands agaisn't my small childish hands. I wanted to feel him caress my cheek. To stroke my hair. To take me in an embrace.

It's not because I was lonely. It's not because I was sad.

I wanted him. Had to have him. But I couldn't bring myself to overcome my shy nature and just do it. I lacked courage. I didn't want to have my already bruised pride to be once again beaten. I was afraid. And a coward.

The cool raindrops on my forehead. I imagined his lips kissing my forehead. The wind shuddering in my ears. I envisioned his lips brushing lightly agaisn't my ear as he whispers something to me.

Our secret smiles. Our shared lunch of McDonald's. Our confessions of our past indiscretions. My wacky quirks, not scaring him away. But welcoming a smile of acceptance. Our oversharing. Our giggles. Our "first and second dates". All in one day. That night he came over. But only kissed me chastely on the lips. But it was the most yearnful kiss I have ever known. It was gentle. It was kind. It was a patient kiss. I knew then, that I could never let him go. For he was mine. My heart had tangled itself to his. Without permission. Without further acknowledgement from me. I wanted to bury this little nugget of goodness. To forget it. To put it away for safekeeping. I hold onto these memories for always. For those nights when he is not near, I can still unveil him in my mind. I can remember him as he was that day. Brave. Couragous. He took a chance on me. He has not regretted the decision thus far. I am just eternally grateful for having him near. For having the opportunity to experience something great like his love.

Thank you, October twenty-first. Thank you, for letting me find love. And for love still sticking around.