Love is Beautiful but Wicked

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Love is usually painted as a very beautiful thing, a source of happiness, a bliss that engulfs the heart and calms the storm of a troubled soul. It's supposed to bring bright smiles to your face and enlighten your countenance when you reminisce. The memories dance in front of you in a colourful silhouette of a beautiful butterfly. Or perhaps you have the butterflies in your stomach.

That's what it's supposed to be or perhaps what I believed it to be. I had this beautiful lady, a fair lady in the true sense of the word. She wasn't the reflection of the sun nor did she have the glow of the moon, but she was fair. She was beautiful, fairest I've ever seen if I may say. She had the face of an innocent adolescent who had yet not been corrupted by the ways of the world.

Her bosom heaved heavily with every breath in a display of determination which I was always happy to misinterpret as an invitation to dine in her halo. Her steps spoke of one who was on her own path, oblivious of the distractions lining the pathway. Her bottom responded in rhythmic vigour. It was a music that constantly held me in awe and wonder of what lays beneath.

I could swear it wasn't lust, but then I was too scared to call it love. I mean, love can't be that shallow to be solely based on the exterior and a little scrape of the interior, right?. "Love should be deeper" I usually thought to myself as I continually strived in futility to shake off the spell. I wanted to break free, but every time I stared into the void of her solemn but sparkly eyes, I became even more engrossed.

I was in a fix, do I dig deeper and explore or do I back off for my own safety? But then, why back off from something that felt so good? Isn't that self sabotage? But what if I'm about to give up immediate gratification for future safety? I was constantly contemplating, and the more I did, the more engrossed I became. Her perfume became my favorite scent, her voice tasted like melodies cooked in the kitchen of the heavens, and I could even bop and bounce to the rhythm of her body as she swerved around the room.

Sitting on the fence wasn't helping so I decided to try my luck. I poked, she responded in equal measure. I was on a roll when I eventually found out that she was in my emotional sphere and we've both just been pretending because we're both scared of being screwed. How we connected was telepathic, a thing of super beings.

It was a matter of days before we started telling each other everything. We did everything together, went everywhere together and always had each other at the tip of our fingers. My best moments were with her, my guys became secondary entities in my life. Her bosom became my peaceful resting place and a ly with her felt like the biblical 'green pastures'.

I never knew that I had been missing so much in the wilderness of singlehood. The days were brilliant because she was there, the nights warm because she was always available and comforting. "This should last forever" I'd think to myself whenever we were together. I was in my best place ever. It was like a dream that kept every part of me awake. "Love is beautiful and sweet after all" I concluded.

But I was just basking in the bliss of the immediate forgetting that for every "up", there's a "down". And the "down" came when things became a bit difficult for me (not for the relationship). The masculine ego in me creeped in and I started thinking that "she doesn't deserve to partake in my sufferings". And even when she tried to, I blocked her out. My insecurities and ignorance did not know that I was pushing my happy place away.

Gradually I was becoming distant while another was becoming available and by the time I was ready to return, the ground had already been tilted and other crops planted. I have been weeded out and cast aside. I was left to dine with the chaff and the thorns, perhaps I would be burned eventually. My heart was wrecked and left in shards and my days experienced daily eclipse.

At one point love was beautiful, it was a source of happiness, a bliss that engulfed my heart and calmed my soul. But then it had become hideous, a source of sadness, and a constant stab to my heart that wrecked my soul. It had drowned me in sorrows. My little box of self reliance was reopened and I returned to its coziness dejected.

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