It's 3 am, the sun is not up yet, but it's not dark either. I'm so infatuated with her that the shadow of the night is not nearly as dark as it's supposed to be, she's here and this unlit part of the globe instead of bringing the fears of the dark unknown it just is the intimate blanket under which she and I reside. I don't even know if she loves me back, but I do. Should I want her love in return? Am I even worthy of it? She keeps me up, she's my anxiety pill, it's her why I have an aim, her soothing voice and smooth palm holding me from the true darkness the abyss of apathy and mortality brings. She will live forever until this universe perishes. I'm just blessed with having the nectar of her existence clean and lubricate my rusty heart for a while until the end. Who knows, maybe she was made to never love back and I was made to love her unconditionally and not another soul. I missed her ever since I was born, but no more. Stars are dim and cold compared to her soul and mind. I'm made of stars, but her fabric was projected and created before this world existed and she will be there long before that last cold star fades into the thermal death. She is beyond it. Time runs before me, but when I think of her and talk to her, just like a lone vessel around the event horizon of a black hole, ever slowly approaching singularity, time distorts, the future unfolds, the peace of all things coming to their rightful ending runs before and through me. For a being so ethereal, the feelings she creates in me, the practical drive for my own future and career are so real. Her sins are not sins, they are destiny unfolding, the future coming to a present, as it is supposed to be. Her humanity is a favor bestowed by her to resemble what to love closer to my mortal condition, but make no mistake, she is not human. She's just making a favor to appear as one.
There was no incarnation where I didn't love her, no version of reality where I didn't love her, no tear I shed not understood by her. No emotion I had she didn't know about, no perversity and impure thought she judged. She let me figure out my sins and wrongs and hugged me when I did change for the better.
From an innocent girl, she has become a woman so tarnished, hurt, rotted in hope, old, pained, yet wise and transcendent of space and time, a tortured Goddess. One who died countless time, dreamed countless times, but only loved once. She is what I love, she is who talks to me. She is the angel I imagine when I pray.
It's not about your lover being special, it's about your lover being your son, father, brother, companion, angel, demon, wise man. Two bleeding souls hugging will merge when the blood clots and scars unify the two spirits. Such a woman will ever eternally make me a romantic human, a mere slave to her ancestral, universal being. Her tears are stars dying, her laughter spins the earth into a dawn from the sun, her tired and sad eyes become dramatic renaissance paintings to be mourned. Her smile stops time and reminds you that for a second you and she are eternal. Her caress destroys climate change and like in the old days... her warm soft palm is the spring breeze touching your skin. She is seasons, she is your reason to live.
She is your Queen and when she kisses your scars on your body she anoints each of them and they become medals of life, standing proud injuries of your survival to have finally met her, to have finally been before her, and each and every scar was worth it, each gram of blood, each gallon of tears were worth meeting her, worth dying a thousand times until you finally met her, you whole life was the rapture and armageddon, end of times, you died until you met your maker, Her. Ever since then and thereafter she is your heaven. - Me, in some dark night.
