THE PERFECT MAN… A DELUSION
It is 7:30 pm cooking my favorite meal, steak and mashed potatoes. I reminisce about this boy whose text messages had me laughing out loud by myself, whose kisses kept me awake at night, whose words kept replaying in my mind, who got me hooked into old-school love music, who bought me chocolates every day for 365 days, this boy who had me singing in the shower & looking up baby names. This boy who said everything right, this boy who promised me the world. He had big blue eyes, a sexy French accent, loved playing football, was funny & the most handsome man I had ever laid my eyes on.
He saw me for me, pursued me intentionally, was a man of his word; made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world, loved me, cared for me, and desired me in every way possible. Learned my love languages, was a good communicator, and remembered every little thing I said. Laughed at all my dry jokes and embraced my insecurities. His love took me by surprise and as they always say, love sneaks up on you when you least expect it
I didn’t see the breakup coming; usually, I’m able to tell when a relationship has run its course. I felt like someone had stabbed me in my heart as I started reading that message and the knife kept turning as I continued reading. This wasn’t what he wanted anymore, it wasn’t me, it was him. He was grateful for the memories we shared but the love story had come to an end.
I cried myself to sleep that night and many more nights after that. I felt physically sick, I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep and it took an arm and a leg to get me out of bed. My calls went unanswered and my texts were left on read. How could he do this, break up over text, and then ghost? Was this the type of man that he was? Were there red flags that I ignored? What about every single thing he had ever said to me? What about I will never hurt you? What about us?
A week after the breakup he was already dating someone new. Selling her the same dream he sold me. He had moved on, he didn’t want me; he didn’t want to fight for us. Was it all a lie? In the end, I was mad at myself. I saw what I wanted to see, heard what I wanted to hear, and romanticized another basic boy!
By Lucy Kay.
About the Creator
A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli5 days ago in Poets
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