in love...

She wore red that day…

… and she waved, from a hundred yards away, the hundred yards that I yearned to be none. We took those destined steps towards each other and slowly but surely the distance receded. Even from such a distance I dared not give her anything but a glimpse; yet my shuffling eyes had no image but hers. The radiance of her presence hit me with every step I took; it struck me with every gust of wind that had caressed her skin and now mine. The world was grinding to a halt, every other person had become immaterial; every evidence of environment irrelevant. My world was the path that separated me from her and nothing else. And I trod that path; she had me overawed, beaten.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. The crimson of her dress, set on the fairest of skins contested with everything my eyes had ever gazed upon and outshone it. My eyes had seen that person before, a multitude of times, but today they saw her differently. They saw her with the reverence that comes with divinity, that precedes royalty. Like a disciple I stood in veneration; my eyes wishing to take in as much as they could yet afraid of blasphemy. I longed to feel those tresses that glided in the early morning breeze to know if it all was real, or just a dream.

I felt my lips moving, some incomprehensible words being uttered. I saw her cheeks flush red, her eyes fixing on mine and her lips starting to part and curve. And within that instant, within the time it took for those three actions to take place, I had been taken over by the most sweeping of feelings. It was unknown before, yet all encompassing now. I had just seen her smile. I had seen beauty epitomized; in the camber of her eyelids, in the redness of her cheeks, in the daintiness of her lips, in the sparkle of her eyes. It was as if my life had been split into two; the one that knew and the one that did not. There was a new connotation to my existence, a new meaning to my perception. My existence was in her happiness; her continuous, unimpeded, absolute happiness.

Every word she uttered sounded fresh; it spoke of hope and expectation. Every syllable was distinct; stabbing through my walls of narcissism and making me hers. Her every glimpse made me weak; I was at her mercy. Every gesture peeled off layers of conceit from my soul, revealing a man in love; in an undeniable state of adulation. It was akin to being born again, under a new name and a new obligation.

I stood there for a long time, even when my lady had gone; to gather even the faintest traces of her scent from the air. When I finally did move, I moved in love.