A view of myself from the perspective of an old friend

She comes to me again, a wanton look on her face, a desire to lose herself, if only for a moment. Tucked into each other’s embrace, I recognize her touch, a soft caress along the edge of my perception, a finger down my spine. Her eyes sparkle with the tell-tale light of joy. She is mine and I am hers. We belong to each other. She’s often away for long stretches of time. I wait for her now as I have waited for her for fifteen years. I know, eventually, she will come back to me. It is only a matter of time. I can see her passing by, day after day, week after week. I watch her. Waiting. I am the one she loves, truly. I am the one she returns to time and again. 

Her loving touch, the smile of knowing. She presses me close to her face, close to her chest and we walk through the sunlight, through parks. We sit, enraptured with each other’s company, wrapped in a pile of blankets before a fireplace. Wine and chocolate on a cold night; lemonade and cakes in the summer. An endless love affair, my beloved and me. 

For a time, I will be her everything. She will wake in the morning, cradling me to her after she fell asleep next to me, a pile of blankets covering us. We’ll coffee together and lunch together and lazy Sunday afternoon together, drinking each other in, her eyes scanning to the depths of my soul and on and on. She never tires of me. Her complete enthrallment empowers me. I shall remain steadfast in my aspiration never to disappoint, never to fail, never to weaken. I must be ready for her when she comes for me.

In time she is done with me. But for a time; for a time. She will set me aside for another, but her love for me will bring her back, as it always has. All these years she has loved me, set me aside, and then loved me again.

I am hers; she is mine.  We belong to each other.

This post is dedicated to those I have loved most dearly, and set aside time and again, only to return:

  • The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas
  • A Long, Fatal Love Chase, by Louisa May Alcott
  • Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte
  • Game of Thrones, by George R. R. Martin
  • Lord of the Rings Trilogy (and anything else Middle Earth), by J. R. R. Tolkien