Longstanding friends who happen to hold hands when we’re crossing the street. Eternal friends who happen to lock eyes at times of fear and embrace with no expectations. They don’t understand that we are together, not out of simple connections, but out of love.
Family, friends, and everyone in between will tell you how perfect you are... they’ll tell you that you deserve to be with someone who fills every fiber of your being with all the most soul stirring passion. They’ll tell you, “whoever it is, they’ll be so lucky to have you. That man, will be so lucky to have you.”
What they forgot to do, is stop at “whoever it is”. Because the moment they premeditated the conclusion of where my heart lies, they closed off the engine that is the driver of where the fire of my zeal for life comes from. They, in essence, told me that the only person worthy of my love is someone I haven’t chosen. Worse yet, someone I never even chose.
And when I explain that they’ve got it wrong, I have to continue explaining.
I have to explain that my heart has chosen on its own. I have to outline that; shit man, the woman in my life is beyond a woman but the piece that fills what little I lack. I have to explain that the way she tickles my spine when I’m thinking deeply, to remind me to come back to the present, makes my blood rush in the most satisfying way. I have to explain that her voice is the whimsical corner I run to when days are both beautiful and bad. I have to explain that every time I hold her close, the softness of her skin makes me want to protect her. I need to explain, for some reason, that my love is for a woman. My deepest love, is for a woman, and apparently, that’s not okay.
So when I say on the surface, we are together, I want you to understand that from the inside out, we are together. When I speak about the lips I miss on a long day, they will be hers I refer to. When I walk through the streets, smiling ridiculously at every moment I see the smallest things, it will be her voice that makes jokes and whispers beauty into my ear. When I refer to love, it is her that I will use as my citation. She is my one. She is the one.
