• The Beautiful Boy

    by  • February 2, 2016 • * Safe for Work *, Lost Love • 0 Comments

    Dear My Love,
    He was beautiful. Not in the way his jaw cut at all the right places, or how his blue eyes gleamed in the darkness. Not in the way that his body was fit, or the way his mouth curled into that perfect smile. I mean, of course those are all perfect things, but that’s not what made him beautiful.

    It was the way I could understand what he was feeling through the curves of his jaw; whether he was angry, or happy, confused, or sad. He chose a secret way to hide his emotions somewhere safe, but I could tell; I could always tell.

    His eyes gleamed, not in the way that he knew he was beautiful, but in the way that needed someone to remind him of his beauty. I always thought his eyes were screaming for attention; for someone to tell him he was important; for someone to tell him he was good enough.

    He was beautiful through his strength. In how he carried himself. Every muscles, every bone knew how to hide his pain, they knew how to put up the front that claimed he was okay. Even though he wasn’t. I wanted to hold him every night while he cried soundlessly. The shame and fear rolling down his cheeks. I wanted him to know that his tears did not mean he was losing.

    My god it was so beautiful when the boy smiled! It showed the hope. The tiny amounts of hope that he clung to. The hope that showed the fragments of his heart that still wanted to be pieced back together. But having hope is like trying to keep a flame burning in a thunderstorm. And like most flames, his burnt out. I could see him fading. I could see the hope teasing him into believing he was going to make it. I saw the day he gave up. The day the hope left his smile; I saw the emptiness.

    I miss him. I miss his beauty. I miss our secrets, our connections. I know the only way his heart can mend it when he learns to love again, he loved her so much it killed him. And he fell out of love with himself.

    But I loved him. I still do, and I will love him until he can love himself and long after that. I still have hope he will come back. I choose to hold an umbrella over my flame to keep it burning. And until he has enough strength, I will hold an umbrella over his.

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