Hopeful Romantic

He made me remember how to love. That’s why I could never betray or hate him. They say never bite the hand who feeds you. And what about the hand who feeds your soul? I know sometimes it ain’t right. He had his secret and I had my secrets. Lots of secrets, which I think made us love even harder in the minutes of midnight. But damn I didn’t know that someone could hold them so heavy and deep, till when they came out, ties undone and you’re looking at that person like… who the hell are you? I’ve had that moment with him. Many times. But like I said. He taught me how to love again. I didn’t want him to come into my life. No one ever invites a storm, no one ever anticipates a car crash. Everyone feels it afterward only. At least those who survive.

He was so damn lovely the first time he came into my view. I remember thinking to myself, finally, the rumors were true. You could find someone and agree with every inch of skin, every strand of hair, every flick of the wrist which belonged to another human being. My fucking prototype. Welcome home, it felt like when he started to speak. Although that’s not what he said at all. What’s your name? I felt like he was messing with me. My name? It’s me dummy, the person who you’ve been waiting for all your life. Corny, I know. What do you expect? I follow in the footsteps on Juliet.

But we were strangers stranded on a deserted Dream with plush pink walls, sand beneath our feet, and cherry blossoms falling from the sky. No, not even that. Here we were just perfect strangers in a hallway and I had fallen for him before he even spat the word, Hello.

Hell, he had me at blink.


Lindsay Reva

monochrome photo of man wearing nose ring
Photo by Vitória Santos on Pexels.com

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