The strangest of all mixtures

He’s the strangest of all mixtures. Rational, yet an artist; a buried alive artist.  Bright like ice templates when they start to melt. He’s cold and sarcastic like none I’ve ever met, yet his eyes make me warm inside when life is pouring down. He feels like morning sun after days of storm. He’s also the sun coming through my window on a December morning when I’m still in bed and its sheets cling to my body refusing to let it go. Would I be insane to call him my October rain? Constant and never faltering; a sure promise of the storm awaiting ahead.  “The one I should’ve never met” that’s what they all say if I dare pronounce as much as the word “Us”. I don’t know how or why, but he’s the beginning and the ending of my longest nights. When I’m with him even without him, I’m as strong as I’ve ever been and, at the same time, incredibly weak in the knees. I am a girl again. And it is of no use to pretend or try to make my mind keep to itself, for he realizes it and very dearly loves when I speak what it has to say even if it makes absolutely no sense. He strips me of the truth with the cursed magic of his sound eyes, and I am hopeless; I am his to take.

Deep down he knows the trouble that lies beneath the surface of whatever it is we are. There is no calm in my mind when he does as much as smile or frown, but it’s the closest I’ve been to feeling at ease since I can recall. Lately his lips have been warning me, telling me I shouldn’t stay. I know I shouldn’t stay… but how am I to leave when he gives me that half- crooked smile? He should be careful and know better than to let his eyes show he craves me as much as I crave him. Why pretend? We are done for.

He's the turning point in my life, and I don’t know what we are to become, but I do know it is easier to breathe knowing that no matter what and in spite of it all, we are.

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