I fell in love once, it was beautiful.
I woke to her on a Saturday, eyes filled to the brim with the happiest tears I can recall featuring romance. She was a saviour I didn’t know I had to pray for, but received at my doorstep nevertheless

Dreams weren’t filled with rage or darkness or blood, there was a peace about them. The first full 8 hours I’d gotten in a very long time. She kissed me in her sleep, and always seemed to tower onto me whenever she felt I was moving from her. Clutching hands and writing love letters with our eyes closed. We were boundless.

We’d reenact this 5 more times, in between each other’s private sanctuaries leaving no part of us covered so we could truly see what it was we had within this space. You were well and of sound mind when you knew of my cold demeanour and the inner raging fire forged by my trauma, but you couldn’t care less and chose to see me for more than what I thought I was. You saw light, gentleness and a love I never knew existed here, a love I then dedicated to you.

Eight p.m was our time, an hour or two every day to catch up and retrace our days to one another. It never mattered what we spoke of after the check ins, we just wished and willed to hear the other utter words into our ears and know there was a smile floating. Your laugh was the tune I chose to dance to whenever doubt of goodness which crept in an attempt to build a way into my being.

I did something I had no business doing: I created in you a god, stopped being a nomad and made a temple out of your love that I moved into recklessly. I made it my four walls and dubbed it my place of worship. Praises would be sang daily as the images of your smile would flood my phone screen to greet me every morning. I took to you as an workaholic does to coffee in the ams.

The abyss had gone from here and there laid a picturesque garden of hope and joy. One rooted firmly in intention, assurance and the promise that this frail heart would have a righteous name to beat in favour of. You came into me, turned this derelict body into a warm, comfortable and hearty home. A true place of refuge and silence.

One Wednesday afternoon, you decided my love was too grand for you to conjure into your palms and keep, so you left.
You learnt after opening me all the way up, having me vulnerable and naked, that your past still affected you greatly and I was a bounce back of what you thought love ought to be, so you packed it all up and left. You went from feeling like home to being a place where things go to die, all because you weren’t ready and chose to leave.

Yet you are still here, ever present, never to be banished from this place.
I hear you when the night comes and the demons of my past beg to do battle with me.
Every time a failed attempt at finding a partner ends with the parting words “You are too good for me” or “You deserve better than what I can give”
I’m afraid to build another temple, to sing another name, to let love inside as it always ends with me being showed the door.

I still don’t hate you, unfortunately.