Collecting The Tattered Shards Of My Heart.
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His blues eyes spoke to me at first glance — his voice a silent echo through my soul.
I moved too deep too fast; I fell for his face before I felt his heart. His truth was a glaring misdemeanor, but his beautiful eyes masked the deception.
His words were a gentle brush against my soul, a quiet reminder of my worth. I hadn’t yet realized that it was my own reassurance that I needed. I never understood he was preying on my fragility, a master of touching the parts of my heart that were wounded.
For years I blamed myself for not seeing through the illusion, for not recognizing the lies that splintered my heart. I now realize that some are better at deception than love; a lie is a better disguise for self-hatred.
The love took hold of my heart and shook me to my core. Sometimes love and hatred become entangled in one. The highs and lows fueled by passion, disguised as love. I was seduced by the emotion, never realizing that love is gentle and kind. It is the thing that lifts you when you are vulnerable, rather than tearing your world apart.
As the relationship progressed, his gentle caresses quickly grew cold. The tender blossoming of love was slandered by cruel words and hatred. The color drained from my life and I curled back into myself. I fumbled trying to make sense of how a love so pure could quickly disintegrate.
My personality was too brash, my strength abrasive, the love in my heart squandered.
I magnified every quality that had left me in this place of disillusionment, attempting to configure the ways in which I had gone wrong.
Was it my inadequacy that was to blame or my intensity?
Was it a lack of love or was it too much to hold?
Were there mistruths along the way that I had failed to notice?
Had the love in his eyes diminished before I even had the chance to catch the light?
Why was I not his waking thought and last kiss goodnight?
I allowed the broken spirit of another to cripple my own. His hatred infiltrated my heart and soul, so I could no longer distinguish between myself and his opinion of me. His ignorance blinded me to my own beauty. I didn’t realize that I deserved far better than the behavior I was confronted with.
My own lack of love was reflected back to me by this man, someone who was never worthy of my heart to begin with.
Sometimes it is the sparkle of your eyes and the truth that you speak which makes you a target. It is often the darkest soul in the room that chooses the brightest light. Those that condemn your truth are waging a battle against their own, their hatred filtered from their own prejudice and insecurity.
Perhaps this beautiful man with a heart of stone was my angel. He mirrored my own lack of love, the ways in which I was willing to settle.
My own heart shone bright against the backdrop of his half-light; my soul reflected a truth he was not yet willing to comprehend. Rather than a testament of my inadequacy, he was a message of my worth. I was far too bright and beautiful to settle for a half-love.
So, thank you, my dark angel, for freeing my heart to find the love I truly deserve.
*****
Cherish Osborne is a writer from Melbourne, Australia who is using her newfound self-love to set her life on fire. In a former life she studied both Psychology and a Master of Social Work, but discovered she was passionate about holistic healing and working with women on their own journey to self-love. Wander over and check out her blog.
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