There He Was

There he was: captivating. I found myself breathless every time he spoke, his words gently pulling back the layers of my underlying soul. Peeling, pulling, unwinding the very intricate parts of me that I had never even thought of letting a person come close to touching; and yet, there he was, doing exactly that.
Without hesitation, I would give him anything he wanted. I would let my soul drown in his everlasting pond of eternal love, and I would swallow every last bit of whatever filled my mouth as I drowned. I would gently caress whatever floated past, never ever glancing to look at what surrounded me.
I believed I was insane. I would accuse and abuse him, scatter his thoughts one way or another, silencing his words with my actions and anger and then apologies. I would burn his flesh with the heat that burned from within what used to be my heart. I would discourage and belittle him, making him feel like he was never even close to deserving me.
I thought that everything I used to say to him was just my hormones playing tug-of-war in my mind and my soul, and that I was just another crazy broad who did not deserve to be loved. I was unintentionally hurting someone that I loved. Someone who I thought taught me that love is possible.
And yet.
I soon found myself holding my breath for a different reason when I heard his voice. His words peeled and pulled and unwound parts of me that I didn’t even know where there. My soul became exposed to the diseases that were his thoughts, his opinions; even his actions affected me to the very core. And yet; there I was, taking it all in.
The more and more I hesitated, the harder and harder he forced his way into my barriers. He broke everything that resided within my heart and I sat by and watched. Sometimes, I would pull him away from it all, cutting his ties, releasing my pain, hoping that if I did that, then he would go away.
But, he broke into my home, tearing down my wallpaper, breaking my windows, destroying every little thing that I loved; every little thing that I worked hard to build up. And when his tantrum was over, he would gently pick up a lamp or two and place it several inches from where it once stood, forever displacing it. He would pat me on the back and say to me, “It’s okay. See, I fixed it for you, so you don’t have to worry about it anymore. Let’s just forget it.”
A phrase I find ironic. With every thrust he would take, I had found it harder and harder to simply forget. I still cannot forget his actions, his words, or anything that he has tied himself to.
When he was gone for good, I swept the glass off the floor; I painted the walls a different color, one that I could look at without thinking of him. The shattered objects were the worst. Important pieces of the puzzle were not just scattered or lost. They were stolen. Beautiful works of art that I had worked on for years were now gone, he took them.