Love Laughs At Locksmiths
By glastobasto
- 2323 reads
Entirely oblivious to just how beautiful she really was, she had seemed to have lived her life with a constant questioning.
Never believing those close to her, who would attempt to soothe her fears, as they tried to convey to her just how high was the esteem in which she was held.
In childhood things are magnified, the passing of the years help little in damage limitation.
To inflict scars on a childs confidence, is surely a crime, as surely as if it were rape.
She grew to hide her hurt, to bury it under a stripey jumper of confidence.
All the friends that knew her agreed that she had bags of attitude, which as a defence mechanism had served her well, allowing her to be outspoken.
We had met as adults, half of our lives behind us by then.
Me a lifelong cynic and serial doormat, I had been kicked around the block more than a few times before our paths had crossed.
Some of those kickings I presume I deserved, but most were inflicted to salve the conscience of the kicker.
I knew the moment.... that awkward.... perfect moment at which I hesitated, said more to me than all the conversations we had shared until then.
She was a thousand fold more of a human being than he had made her feel.
When on rare occassions, she felt a glimmer of that reality, she would radiate a confidence that was absent in the mundane.
At last in life I had found a soul that could realise it's happiness in me as I realised mine in hers, at those special times she made my soul soar.
When we first met a few years before I had filed her in my mind as a free spirit, a woman of substance, a force.
At that moment I resolved to keep her in my life forever, in any capacity that she would agree to, be that friend or mere acquaintence.
But we had clicked, I think we both heard it, so despite our wildly different lives, and our entirely opposite family situations, the dice had been rolled.
And while I believed that there may be too many barriers in our way to ever become one, was amazed to find them opening.
It was true..... love laughs at locksmiths.
She was one of the points on a five pointed star.
Then, shocking myself to the core, I realised that I felt no trepidation in accepting the star as a whole, in all it's brilliance, despite the heat that would inevitably come with it.
I wanted to treasure it, to protect it, to make it glimmer, to keep it from harm.
She had not been valued for many a year, unappreciated and hidden, seen as a mere spangle.
Not by me though... to me she was the only thing of worth that has ever come into my possession, and should I live until the sun goes out, never will I yearn for anything more.
But I know now that I am not destined to possess such beauty.
For I am not worthy.
My isolation in crowded rooms makes me all too aware that the better part of my soul has died.
Mourning it's passing is pointless, regretting that which I cannot change, an excercise in futility.
I will mutate, I will adapt, I will live.
Love does indeed laugh at locksmiths... but in my case the locksmith changed the lock.
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