The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

She always tried to tell him it was his soul she fell in love with, yet it was his presence she craved. Empty moments filled with nothing was what she became accustomed to. She tried to love him like she thought he wanted, yet in the end, she saw she should have loved him the way he needed. He never believed she really loved his soul, as he told her he didn’t have one and instead, he preyed on her generous nature and kind ways; he manipulated time and space daily, to push her to her limits. He was the wolf in sheep’s clothing. She saw in his pearly white smile the truth of how hard he could really bite, but she knew that part of loving him was loving his demons, too. But, in the end she let his demons feed on her. She took on the role of the victim; she forgot who she was. She was the fire in her emotions, stronger than any woman, for she felt the pain, every inch of it, and still got up every day with love in her heart and a smile on her face. She fell into the role she played, but never really felt like herself. Outsiders looked on like she was weak for staying oh so many times. People would tell her to learn to love herself. Yet she did. The small piece of the puzzle that no one ever saw was she loved herself, in the true meaning of the word. She honoured a karmic bond made before this body, and she knew, in balance, they would teach each other lessons about who and what they really are. Because, thats the beauty of love: It never really dies. It’s just harder for a blackened soul to feel. So they parted, perhaps this time for good. She saw him, into him, through him, and all of him—yet the wolf never removed the sheep’s clothing until the aftermath came upon her.

She felt let down, betrayed, unimpressed, and hurt. Not because of the stupid, childish smear campaign, or because he cheated on her yet again. No, she felt this way cause they’d had an unspoken pact to love each other’s broken bits. He betrayed that. She’d never expected his loyalty, but she had hoped he could really see her. Unfortunately, his demons again were far too strong and savage. They betrayed him. He couldn’t see the strength in her eyes, through her tears and cries of pain. He thought she was weak, needy, and pathetic, as he could only ever see himself reflected in her shallow waters. It’s in the depths that she finds her strength to resurface anew. He won the fight, never knowing she had already conquered the war. She felt every inch of what he did, and loved him anyway. The only fool was he, he with his shallow thoughts, and shallow needs and wants. He stopped listening to his soul that craved to never die alone. He could no longer hear its whisper. But she could she could hear him calling, calling out another woman’s name, in the hope that she might see him and choose him anyway. But she was broken herself, and playing jump rope with him. She knew he couldn’t love; she knew who he was. Her demons reflected his, and together, they found something in common. But did they really love each other, or did they only love the reflection of themselves in one another’s cold, dark eyes? She played her cards right. She new exactly how to behave after studying his main supply for so long. She knew just how to capture his gaze. And so she did. And so they were. And so they will continue to be, for a period of time.

She was left behind, discarded, like a cold, dead, lifeless nothing. He believed he’d reduced her to this nothing, yet his young, dark soul had much to learn about this life, love, and limits. And just as she saw in the aftermath that perhaps he was ready for truth, she knew she’d never let one word whisper between the two of them again. He’d given her up. He thought he’d sucked her dry, taken everything he could, and stripped her bare and naked. So, why did she still stand so tall? So proud, defending the love she’d once felt, knowing herself, and not being ashamed of losing so much in action? She’d known his heart, in other lives, in other times. She’d loved him in many different facets, with different faces and different relationships, in different lives. So, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t feel it this life, and that he instead tried to break her, because she knew the ache he felt in this life, too, for she felt it also. And while not the same, she too ached in the absence of love he could never give her. He would never understand in this life, or this body, how she loved him so purely, so organically. The abuse made a mockery of the, sadly, only shallow feelings they could share this time round. She longed to dive the deep oceans of his soul, yet his demons would slay anyone who entered even his murkiest, shallowest of waters. This life was harder on her with lessons, painful lessons constantly bombarding her family. She didn’t have the freedom to switch off and simply not care for this or that, like him. She felt every inch of abuse growing up. She saw people she loved die while others were lost and gone, yet still walking around in loved ones' bodies. She’d never let anyone in enough to trust them enough to really see her. How strong she really was, how much hurt, sorrow, and raw ache she felt daily. In fact, he was the first person to mirror such true pain. She thought he had an insight to this. That it was simply known, or felt. She was naive, in love, while he thought himself quite the puppet master. But, it was her strength, when summoned correctly, that would have been their salvation. Yet, once again his savage demons fed on any belief of true love... and he walked away. This time for good.