I didn’t love you when I first saw you, despite the eagerness in the meeting of our eyes. Perhaps lust, perhaps flirtation, but it took moons for love to create rings within the trunk of my core. You had to leave a mark, a stain, first strange and terrifying until I found the beauty inside the chaos.
I can’t pinpoint the day when just the mention of your name sparked my smile. When I knew I loved you. There was no dramatic moment. No shared revelation. It just slipped through the air in the familiarity of your laugh and the kindness of your touch. The way you unknowingly proved yourself again and again.
I did not want to love you, but you embedded iris inside me. It will harden like pavement. It will sustain past life, past death, until I can no longer remember the counting of days, until my mind is shattered.
I fall in love slowly, over the course of infatuation, denial, attraction, sacrifice; but once my heart solidifies, it blooms into a rust-coiled shell. Time may crack it, or it may soften and shed, but kindness remains. You are forever cursed with my affection, my best intentions, my love, until the story ends.