I watched this Kpop video last night. There was a dude in it with a nice deep voice and blue hair. Heard through the grapevine that that's ya mans. Here to let you know, not anymore. You have been relived you of your duties. I'll take over. *winky face emoji* :-D
The first time you see his face, he looks the way poetry feels. Before you even know him, you know him. When he speaks, his voice is a violin, is a lullaby, is a flute that charms the snakes you wear wrapped around your neck, is a signal saying “you are safe here.”
Each time you see him, he glows bright enough to shine through the thickest of fogs. You learn to keep your eyes locked on his light so you don’t get lost, learn to call him “home”. Everything else seems spectral in the mist and you seek shelter in the safety of his presence.
When he invites you over, you change plans too easily. Everything else becomes rearrangeable, replaceable, bottom of the priority list. He is items one, two, and three, and there may as well be no four.
Time becomes your greatest enemy, crawling by each second that you are not with him and flying by without a warning each second that you are. After a lifetime of chasing the horizon, you finally want the present moment to last forever, but instead it passes in a blur.
You grow on each other like ivy on brick: beautiful, harmonious, reaching toward the sky. Not knowing the ways you weaken the structure, not knowing if and when the walls will crumble. Not knowing how much of the damage will be your fault. You cannot cling to him forever, yet on your own you can no longer exist at all.
When it finally crumbles, nothing you do or say can convince you that you did not see this coming. Of course you did. You knew it the same way a general knows he’s lost the war but keeps fighting the battle anyway, the same way everybody knows the end is coming but still holds on to some childish idea that maybe, it won’t come. Of course it will. Of course.
After the first time he ignores your calls, you become a master of instant forgiveness. You watch as the light you have made your life slowly fades into the fog, but always you insist that dim light is better than darkness. And it is. You weep in the falling night, quake in fear of all you can no longer see.
You prepare yourself for the departure, tell yourself you’d rather him be gone than hovering uncertain on the edge. You tell yourself it’s better that way, but you can never be ready for the crumble, the moment he finally leaves and you are launched in impenetrable darkness.
Your friends offer feeble consolations, tell you you are too strong to be so dependent, tell you you can spend your time chasing your own happiness. You try to remember what made you happy in the time before, but when you search your memory it’s him and it’s him and it’s him. If this is love, you do not want it.