Everything Changed When I Fell in Love with Her
Love is… love is… her, and she is the purest kind of love I could ever conceive. She is everything I didn’t know, wanted, and needed. The thousands of miles my worn-out shoes have walked couldn’t have been less prepared.
Walking in her presence feels surreal. It’s like what I imagine it’ll be to breathe the air among the most chimerical and heroic ones. I truly admired her tenacity against adversity and her will to live. Her determination to make a better tomorrow never ceases despite the challenges I’ve never foreseen to endure. She is a living legend, a remarkably beguiling untold story that most seem to disregard as treacherous, better yet, as mere deception. Yet, no one has denied her transcendent, tangible, and luminescent essence.
Unlike a shooting star, she remains up in the Northern Hemisphere night sky like the Cassiopeia and as the true queen she is. Her peach-black kingdom couldn’t do her any further justice but to allow her to be the only sign of true radiant beauty. I’ll forever be and shall never stop loving her, for she showed me that flaws are the beauty marks that make her noteworthy. She once said if I were to be as perfect as a picture, I would be like a blank canvas whose uninspired artist decided to leave unpainted in the corner of a room, clean and untouched and forgotten. If I were to be flawless, it would make me out to be the thoughts that Lethe herself would command you never to remember, for which I’d have never brought any importance to your existence while condemning me to the depth of its river, never to be found for eternity.
She taught me that one could only know the true meaning of sorrow once I’ve experienced happiness. Even when, as a glimpse of joy, one can then understand the definition of misfortune as pain can only withstand its meaning after the presence of true love.
My time with her lost its measure, for which the many moon’s phases before our encounter became a blur I no longer recall. She is my present and my future; she is timeless. Her skin will perpetually be the warm sunrise embrace of my ever-living morning. I indulge in every second I spend with her as if it were my last, for she is like papaya, so sweet and smooth with every bite.
She is the sweet, heady, sensual floral scent of the Maga tree flower incarnated. I seek her as a bee searching for the Desert Cassia with its beautiful yellow petals in a summer blossom.
I am to her like a hummingbird is to the Lantana all year round, yet the sound of her voice is like no other. Her sweet-sounding tones soothe my soul like the ocean waves at sunset slack tide.
She is, in fact, my beach morning glory,
I’ll admit she can be the Hammock Viperstail for some while being the Spurred Butterfly Pea to the eyes of the foreign photographer. her, for she is I, and I am her.
With Love,
Ibis
