This Was Love

They told me I would know love when I experienced it, each relationship moving through me overwhelmed with lackluster, until I met Alister. I learned what love is; it’s fighting through the painstakingly rough roads to end up in his warm embrace when all else seems to crumble away. He is irritation and satisfaction, a deep fulfilling breath seeping into your lungs and expanding the muscles in your chest, but also a day like when every little thing is going wrong filling your face with vexation and your voice ready to scream. I can feel the warm wind gust through my hair on a gentle autumn day and as I close my eyes I see his face. A million different hues of reds, oranges and golds and my minded is clouded by the plentiful glances his eyes have made. Alister is the battle of dark and light; the yearning of temptation and the grace of salvation. He is ever-changing and permanent. He is undefinable love and depth all neatly packaged under a prince charming face.

His face is young, just about 22 years of life making semi-permanent lines on his sculpted face. His eyes are dark like the night, and the warm embracing sun rises only to saturate his eyes with golden streaks making them immeasurable in value. You can see the years have been strenuous and unaccommodating if you consider the depths of the golden gaze. They show you wrath, lust, and tranquility, an unpredictable contradiction. Flashing a smile to let you know he sees you, another feature sculpted by the angels. Such a smile can bring the blood to your cheeks and you can feel it from across a room, a glimmer of perfection spreading across Alister’s face; just how the ocean spreads across the shore. His face highlighted by darker features, cunning. Somehow, every bump, scar, or freckle only seems to enhance him. His face will tell you a million stories if you can hear them past his deep warming chuckle. You could hate him, at least I am sure it’s possible; nevertheless, the only appropriate way to describe him is handsome. Perhaps that is why the world has visited his life so much, impacting, leaving scars on the outside and wounds on the inside.

So many times, I have found myself allied with the people who have a distaste for him, it never felt real. Just like every set of lovers we had our bumpy roads. My mind was convinced that no one could truly dislike this depiction of beauty. As intensely as he impacts the naked eye, holds no comparison to the depth carved into his soul. Every step life took on him is evident, but only if you’re looking. He will articulate words only to make your heart race, carefully chosen bits of warmth pushing through his vocal cords and dancing across his tongue. Someone to listen to for hours, regardless of what he is saying it echoes like music, a symphony of syllables and purpose. Everything he says is said with passion and intent; each word calculated. He is self-aware and uses the knowledge of himself to choose an occupation that is suitable. He is a master manipulator, or in laymen terms: a salesman. It takes him moments of seeming endearing to tear down somebody’s walls of security. His tongue is the only muscles that works harder than his heart. His incredible intellect gives him an advantage over the average person, and it also makes late night conversations intriguing. He is driven through passion and determination. He fought for half a year to just get my attention again. He messaged me his love on no less than a weekly basis, fighting to reunite and wash away his sins and rebuild with me. Confronting not only me but himself. This 22-year-old man holds himself accountable, and chooses to pay for his sins. His maturity exceeds him.

I took me five days to love him, and three years to question why. Why does the very thought of him bring sweet smells from my memories? Why can I remember everything he has ever said to me? His personality is intensity, power, and strength. As I observe him move through life over the many years I find myself in a trance. Every touch, kiss, and movement he makes is aggressive. When he is sweet; he is sugar, speaking words that turn my face into a blossoming rose, and makes my stomach feel like I took a step that wasn’t there. We will spend all day in bed, and just lazing around laughing and gasping for air in between jokes. We can talk for endless sweet hours, and I know it is because of Alister they have the term, “sweet nothings.” Rage for him is a formally inert volcano waking up from a deep slumber, trying to erupt before it melts him internally. The fire lights up his golden eyes, every muscle strains, every breath is intentional, so is every word spoken from his kind lips. The strength exposes itself as he holds himself gentle calm during the storm.

Though he may leave for hours or years, I can still feel his warmth like his arms are wrapped around me. He is my addiction, the only substance I have ever desired. Upon meeting him I was ready to jump off the edge and to leave mediocracy behind. We delve into love and obsession. Since then, hours have moved like minutes never giving us enough time. Even though I know we have a lifetime, it seems like there are only moments left. Alister, my lover, a honey-sweet lotus, leads me and I willingly follow him to any corner of the Earth. We taught each other love, as we swore to follow one another into the dark. He taught me forgiveness and I showed him my faith. I never knew a love like him; however, I knew it was only him when we first traded words, speaking lyrics at each other and neglecting our duties. We have a love that is more than love.