Intoxication

I am inebriated with her, dependent on her. She is my light and my guide.

How I remember, in the days of old, when I used to kiss those divine lips. If man was nothing but a constellation, I would be the tiny Pyxis and she would be the wondrous Andromeda. There was no moment when I did not think of her, when I did not feel her. Within a moment, a brief flash in the sea of eternity, she became my obsession, my wine and I drank her like a man devoid of any other thirst. There was no drug as powerful as her, as immensely addictive as her. Oh, my muse, how I ache and writhe in pain when I see you, knowing that you shall never be mine to hold and that I shall never be the one to caress you tenderly, so tenderly.

And yes, tender and timid she was, as placid as the writer’s muse, as fleeting as a memory. Wherever she went, an air of divinity hung and lingered. And even now, as I reminisce of her beauty, I cannot help but write, in feeble words, my obsession. You filled me, my muse, you added to me and you took from me the most basic of things. My mind paces and runs to faraway places when I am in your midst, fantastic dreams of impossible things filling my mind. You are my fantasy and my brightest, most radiant gem. If there ever was a chemical equation that was to describe your essence, it would be too breathtaking to write down.

You complete me, you dragged me out from the pit of depression and darkness and you showed me the true beauty of life. And yet, some may say, that I adore you so much I consider myself inferior to you. Such a falsehood had not been spoken since the days of my distant youth, for I think that we complete each other like day and night, like the stars and the sea. I love you more than the moon loves it’s silver lake, I adore you more than a butterfly it’s flower. These savage and primitive words do not do you justice.

Those eyes, I used to know them as if they were my own, and I still do. Two beaming, blond orbs adore your supple face, such depth yet to be found anywhere else. Armed with your cascading hair and rosy lips, you used to torment me with your mere presence. I had never found one like you, nor had I had the opportunity to gaze upon one such as you, before or since. Divine you were and divine you remained, the sight of you still etched within my soul.

I am a summer’s drop of rain and you, my love, are a thunderstorm.