I know I live on borrowed time, it`s perfectly clear to me.
When I first laid my eyes on her, as she was standing on the other side of the street waiting to cross, I was nervous, I was hopping from one leg to the other, humming a Def Leppard song out of unknown reasons, it almost looked like I was dancing. A lunatics dance, mind you, but still a dance. I was also a wreck at the time.
Physically strong as an ox, I was working construction for quite some time then, hard stuff, building houses from bottom to top, but mentally, I was almost gone.
I drank like there is no tomorrow, nor did I ever expect one, I lived every day like it is my last. The future meant nothing to me and I`m quite sure I didn`t even wan`t one. Laughter was something I forgot exists, except for the cynical snarl here and there, and happiness was a word and state of mind that was never there at all. The scars from the civil war back home were still fresh and I really don`t believe the saying that time heals all wounds.
Well, maybe time doesn`t. But she does.
I was expecting anything and nothing from meeting her, I stopped hoping a long time ago, and I simply didn`t believe anymore. In nothing. Not in God, not in Love, not in people and most certainly not in me.
So, when she finally crossed the street and took my hand into hers, looked me straight in the eyes and said " Hey, street dancer, have you been waiting long?" I was at loss for words. It was like she had known me forever. I don`t quite remember what my first words to her were and maybe I didn`t say anything at all.
We walked down the street, looking for a restaurant to have a drink and chat, she never let go of my hand. For the first time in years and years, my hand felt like it belonged in somebody else`s hand, but, being as I was, I pulled my hand back anyway. If she was hurt by that, she didn`t say nothing, she continued talking, her warm voice all around me, as if nothing had happened. And looking at me, with those brown, big eyes, always looking, straight through my armor of mistrust and misery.
At the restaurant, while talking, she took my hand again, quite casually, like something that needed care and warmth, and wrapped her fingers around mine. This time I didn`t pull back.
It was also the night when we first kissed, and when God granted me some more time on this beautiful stage called life, even though I`m not sure I deserved it.
So, today, 12 years after that night, I`m still here and the sole reason for that is her. She taught me everything from the beginning, from baby steps to full grown, deep and infinite Love.
And when I handed her a bouquet of 12 roses for 12 years, neither of us had to say anything, just stand there and look at each other like each of us is looking at a miracle.
Which indeed...we are...
I love you.
When I first laid my eyes on her, as she was standing on the other side of the street waiting to cross, I was nervous, I was hopping from one leg to the other, humming a Def Leppard song out of unknown reasons, it almost looked like I was dancing. A lunatics dance, mind you, but still a dance. I was also a wreck at the time.
Physically strong as an ox, I was working construction for quite some time then, hard stuff, building houses from bottom to top, but mentally, I was almost gone.
I drank like there is no tomorrow, nor did I ever expect one, I lived every day like it is my last. The future meant nothing to me and I`m quite sure I didn`t even wan`t one. Laughter was something I forgot exists, except for the cynical snarl here and there, and happiness was a word and state of mind that was never there at all. The scars from the civil war back home were still fresh and I really don`t believe the saying that time heals all wounds.
Well, maybe time doesn`t. But she does.
I was expecting anything and nothing from meeting her, I stopped hoping a long time ago, and I simply didn`t believe anymore. In nothing. Not in God, not in Love, not in people and most certainly not in me.
So, when she finally crossed the street and took my hand into hers, looked me straight in the eyes and said " Hey, street dancer, have you been waiting long?" I was at loss for words. It was like she had known me forever. I don`t quite remember what my first words to her were and maybe I didn`t say anything at all.
We walked down the street, looking for a restaurant to have a drink and chat, she never let go of my hand. For the first time in years and years, my hand felt like it belonged in somebody else`s hand, but, being as I was, I pulled my hand back anyway. If she was hurt by that, she didn`t say nothing, she continued talking, her warm voice all around me, as if nothing had happened. And looking at me, with those brown, big eyes, always looking, straight through my armor of mistrust and misery.
At the restaurant, while talking, she took my hand again, quite casually, like something that needed care and warmth, and wrapped her fingers around mine. This time I didn`t pull back.
It was also the night when we first kissed, and when God granted me some more time on this beautiful stage called life, even though I`m not sure I deserved it.
So, today, 12 years after that night, I`m still here and the sole reason for that is her. She taught me everything from the beginning, from baby steps to full grown, deep and infinite Love.
And when I handed her a bouquet of 12 roses for 12 years, neither of us had to say anything, just stand there and look at each other like each of us is looking at a miracle.
Which indeed...we are...
I love you.
