The amber eyes of a wolf glow in the wooded darkness and I have become the sailor who follows that light to shore. I have been warned of the voices that lure (wo)men like me from the sea to peninsulas whose shapes aren't sketched on any maps. I throw caution in the air and set sail anyway, though I hold the anchor close just in case the wind and the sea decide to weather a storm that will not only rain on my parade, but blow the entire circus out of town (and into a sewer drain).
False start, false hopes—all of it as artificial as the substances they put into their lips. As dangerous as the substances we pour into, smoke into, pop into our stomach, our lungs, our mouths. My heart strings played a sad tune from the moment my childhood slipped through my fingers along with the sands of time, and the aching pulsated inside my chest ever since I lost her. Ever since I gained her. Ever since I lost all of the men who were, by birthright, supposed to be there for me in my times of need (for there have been plenty). And even when I lost those who were not, the men who were temporary lessons that I wasn't sure were meant to build me up or knock me down. What I know for sure is that I never aspired to become a construction worker, but the walls I've been made to build, and knock down, and build up again would put a veteran of the trade to shame.
For the first time since I was a teenager my heart is being cradled in the arms of someone who looks into my eyes and sees the light that I have hidden so deep inside I wasn't sure it was still illuminating. Only now this one is a man, so strong and fierce, yet charming and gentle, funny and loyal and kind. He reaches into my chest and squeezes that beating and battered organ that somehow still sustains life, and his golden gaze creates the warmest sunrise.
My fear refuses to cease, but in each moment we lock eyes, and he smiles, and his eyes scrunch up and his mouth widens with a happiness I know neither of us ever thought we'd feel again, the cement that holds the bricks together slowly disintegrates. Eventually I plan to knock the entire thing down, and I want this feeling to stay. God, no matter what comes our way, I need you to stay.
