I fell in love with someone who clearly doesn’t hit the gym. He smokes too much of everything and his breath always smells like an ashtray mixed with peppermint. The sight of him is not angelic and his only attractive features are his lips and deep honey eyes.
I felt a pool of hurt when they defined him as a good for nothing type of man. They criticized my hearts choice and accused me of completely losing my mind. They demanded to know why I loved him so deeply, but how could I have explained the way in which he planted an undying flower in my soul?
It started the day he wrote me my first love letter, popped it inside of my letter box and his words crashed into my heart and got stuck there.
Then he had the ability to use his eyes to guide me inside of his heart until I could see the amount of love that he was capable of sharing with me. And he almost loved me as much as Romeo loved Juliet.
And every time we spoke I could feel the depth of his words. They were conversations that could blow every part of your brain and then collect the scattered pieces again.
He saw my brokenness and he had confidence that my pain would lead me to becoming a stronger woman. I wish that I had that amount of faith in myself.
I was mesmerized by his old school romance. He treated me the way men treated women in an age where love was real. He walked to my door, gently knocked and my hands meant to turn the key, but it was my heart that opened.
He had the ability to comfort my imperfections and make me appreciate the parts of myself that everyone else hated.
There is no sentence powerful enough to describe the amount of love that I carried for this man.
They prayed for an ending to my ‘obsession’ until I had no choice, but to toss my feelings aside.
The day I lost him I felt my heart traveling to my throat and I spat my heart in the faces of those who never wanted me to be happy.

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