I was told that love can never be wrong.
That even if you fall in love with a person who is already married with seven children and is committed to their marriage and partner, it is still not wrong .
I want to believe that, but certain situations in my life…and others around me, have led me to think differently.
He was seven years older than me. A musician. Handsome. Tender.
I was young. Foolish. Intoxicated by his every breath.
I don’t remember when I knew; but it was undeniable. My heart sat in a comfortable blur. The sharp lines of day and night softened into dusk and dawn. my thoughts always travelled to his scent. My arms were forever in his warmth. M world revolved because of him.
He would always say those words to me. Whisper them in a crowded bus. Mouth them after playing me a song. Always very gently and with a tenderness I have never understood. He was the father of my children..He would always say that. Little girls with my nose and his musical ear.
In a word, it was intense.
I was burning in a fire of fervor and it made me severely uncomfortable. I was a slave to those three words. My revolving world was moving too fast and I needed some air.
There are days when I miss that intensity. Him. The music.
There is also a part of me that knows without a doubt that it was not right. I was lost, and on some days, I think he was too. Somewhere in that crimson delight, we forgot about the rainbow. lost perspective.
That love… it took away from me. It ate at me and almost destroyed me.
I am no connoisseur, but I know enough to understand that truly, madly and deeply can also be dangerously, venomously and deathly.