What can I be to her but trouble?
A month ago I was a pair of thighs, a distant memory of a timeline far from view.
Now I feel I frustrate her, I anger her, I bring sadness to her life. I never meant to, why would I when she is to all that I aspire.
I gaze at a screen, awaiting carefully barricaded words from her.
Each consonant, each vowel, dances majestically before my smitten eyes, Pulling at every heart string, composing an eternal sonata in the deepest recesses of my soul.
This sweetest music that only the most fortuitous of men can sing to, yet…
Will it serve as a triumphant herald for my happiness or a dirge to mark a loss I fear to bear.
Whatever it may be, I must march to it’s bewitching beat for all time as no melody could ever move me so.
I see in her face, a visage of such exquisite beauty, hiding depths that others could not even venture into for fear of being lost.
There is a sadness, yet from her eyes spark fierce warning, that a warriors spirit lays behind this Empresses delicious smile.
She thrills me, she ignites in me a passion to defend her from all ills, yet I know she can conquer worlds men fear to tread.
What wickedness is there in her, for I see none, other than that which we both would share.
She is everything I would cherish, a mother beyond compare to her blessed children.
As they are to her, they would be to me.
This is a glimpse of what I see in her but what of me to her?
Dare I fool myself that even one ounce of this angels being should ever look at me and long?
I am part of her destiny, this I know, but which role must I play?
Am I, daring again to dream, a conduit for her happiness, or a troublesome burden who just clouds her gentle mind?
Am I an obstacle that must be overcome, or merely a remedy to ease her pain?
My path I know is chosen, in a darkened tunnel I can see her light.
So I shall carry on my journey, content in the knowledge that that this light may guide me,
Or serve to illuminate my past, casting an ever lengthening shadow to mask steps that I would be loathe to tread.
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