When I look back to the time we were together, all those years ago, I see a young girl ready to be swept off her feet by the man of her dreams. From the moment I first heard his voice I knew I was to be emotionally his forever. I had dated other guys, but Rob was my first true love.
We were introduced by friends one autumn weekend, as bitterly cold winds took my breath away when he shook my hand for the first time and the night fell from the sky. From that moment we were inseparable, spending every spare moment together, while I carried his image and voice in my heart whenever we were apart. His words captured my imagination as he took me on the most wonderful thought dreams, lying in my bed during the afternoon, wrapped in his music and watching those dark eyes. We were opposites in so many ways; my moon child against his bright sun; my water sign and his earthiness; his outgoing personality that drew my timid Cancerian nature out of its shell.
In the evenings he would wait for me after work, even if I was running late and he had some other place to be. Through the night it was just my lover and I, entwined around each other, as he made me feel like a woman. He had so many pet names, saying that he loved me with a sigh, leaning against my velvet lips until I was shaking helplessly with fever; I was his Queen of Hearts, his blue-eyed lady with skin like silk and hair of flaming red. Early in the morning sometimes he would wake me with a gentle kiss so that we could watch the sunrise, and then he would make love to me until I was late for work. During the day he would phone at random times to say he was thinking about me.
He was from another world, playing tricks with the night, much older and more experienced, but he showed me how to follow a dream and trust myself. He taught me how to play guitar, showed me how to use my voice, and encouraged me to write. At eighteen years old, I didn’t realise how young that was, but I was in awe of his stories of travelling, hitchhiking into the city with just a guitar and a handful of songs; his way of looking at the world from around the corner, showing what was hidden amongst the shadows of the mind; his world of politics, protest and anger about the truth; the world of love and mystical magic that was deep inside his heart.
It took me a long while to realise that I was no longer part of his plans or dreams, trying to make sense of it all, until I burnt all of his letters and photos and watched the smoke drift off into the night. I have learnt that love does not last forever, but for a brief moment in time we burned with such a glorious flame. We lived together for two years but I have loved him for a lifetime. Now I feel no pain and my visions of his face are all that is left.