The skies were a melancholy of gray, still illuminated by the moon guarded behind the mournful clouds. My heels clacked along the cobblestone streets, passing under city lights as my breath left my lips to be held by the cold night air. Making my way to the grand entrance, designed with the pure artistry of architecture, I reached the destination: the main event, where she would steal the show. The massive wooden door was opened to the main foyer. The walls were covered in a gallery of magnificent scenes of the past. History would repeat itself this night; history would see the magnificence of her. Oh, to the attraction. The kind of indescribable moment when you could finally feel your heart start beating. I felt it in my bones before I could even lay eyes on her. She was the kind of woman that men spent their whole lives poeticizing. Her presence was the center of the ballroom as though she was the sun illuminating the black abyss. No man here was ever the prize and neither was she. She was so much more than for us to have a choice in her life. I felt like an extra to her Broadway center stage role. Your life was hers for the taking and, oh God, I hoped she would have me. I slipped away to order a drink at the bar where Edgar told me that while I loved; I would love alone, but not this time: we both knew the world was ready to love her. While some men were meant for more than dying, I doubt she would even notice my death. That's when I forgot to breathe; when she asked me to dance. She had forged her decision and who was I to say no? The voice emanating from a mind so pure beckoned -- commanded -- my desires. My angels began singing the song of human existence in our hearts. My demons bowed their heads of form and made way as the music melted my worries into the dark corners of the room. Her confidence was deeper than the oceans and unfaltering as I witnessed my first hurricane. The beauty of her soul was thundering louder than a storm and her dress silenced the room in the awe of a winter morning. She was not mine to behold and yet I didn't need to lose my gaze to know the forest fires of passion that she could spark with a simple glance. The look in her eyes, as she took my hand, led me home. Oh, what a pretense I never knew; I never knew home in my volatile life until she held my hand. So, it was that in another life I may have fell into her arms, hoping I was worthy of her God given strength of heart. That's when I woke up. I dared to glance across the room and there she was, making peace with her life as she pretended to be anything less than love itself.
Hers truly,
James Kennedy
