He is so unlike an ordinary man it is hard to even describe. He is made of the strongest hardest steel, an unbreakable will, a refuge, a solace. He offers me perfect and unwavering protection. And yet so kind, as most men have no thought to be, nor care to try, a heart so large, creating its own world with room to spare. He gives me patience and understanding beyond all comprehension. He has taken a scared, weary, broken girl and brushed her off, ever so slowly helping her remove the thick veil built around her soul. Only the greatest of men could be capable of this.

A dream so hard to trust, a dream so hard to hold. Its whispers could so easily have melted away like ice on a summer’s day, phantoms in my mind only come to taunt me and yet he stayed. And more, this sweet svengali, my teacher of all things dangerous, he is darkness in its finest form, the ultimate challenge, the apple sent to Eve, my last temptation, carnality and lust and hard won freedom. I can describe him too well and not at all. I can only follow, knowing that sensual soul so sent to cure me and bound to give the deepest trust and the truest love. Is he perfect? Surely not. But he is most certainly perfect for me.