He had a quiet confidence displayed in his strong yet confined stature that made his low voice all the more enticing to me. He was tall, almost ridiculously so. His faded green eyes suggested small defeat, but his stance, his physical presentation hinted toward an inner pride. He was never too proud, but he silently knew of his greatness.
I delighted in his rare smile, his casual chuckle, and his shy demeanor. I found myself utterly entranced within moments of our first meeting nearly 8 months ago.
We became friends, and my admiration of him grew daily. I had never been so enamored with such a man.
He was harsh, a former Marine and a hardened man, but I knew he was desperately seeking a place where he could be soft, sensitive, feeling. But the world, a harsh, unfeeling place forced him to quiet his inner pain. He never spoke of it, but I suspected that he possessed an level of inner turmoil that I could never understand.
His laugh, at first a pleased chuckle turned into uproarious hysterics, but only following the funniest of interactions. I occasionally forced him into such a fit of unbridled joy. Oh, and I would be lying if I said my heart didn't leap for joy as his hearty laughter leapt from within him over his quiet suppression of emotion.
I was romantically invisible to him, of that I was certain. I was his friend; nothing more. But I dreamt in pensive sadness of his acceptance of my great admiration of his conflicting personalities, his light and his dark, of which we all harbor as both friend and enemy. His light he hid as frequently as his dark. He had no intention of hinting to the world that he felt all the pain and pleasures on an extreme level. Not only did he feel it all, they forced each decision despite his claim to logical thought over emotion.
But his suppression, his quieted emotions forced him to be conflicted, confused. On rare occasion, he danced with hypocrisy. I loved this puzzled personality of a good hearted man, intent on anonymously improving the world.
He never begged for credit or admiration of his good deeds; he never discussed them. He existed, a beautiful soul lying under a handsome exterior. His pleasant, patient nature tucked away under his mild negativity and intense cynical nature.
Oh, how I dreamt of his kiss. It was sure to be as surprising as his soul, harsh and soft existing within the same euphoric moment. His touch, a probable mirror of his conflicting personality, had to be an intriguing mix of tender excitement and intense passion.
But his dreamlike body was not the reason for my casual study of his physicality; his sharp mined, ever present and constantly witty made him irresistible to me. His deep bantering voice and pleasant jokes made me crave him with such powerful need that I could scarce breathe around him for fear of giving my want away.
Restricted by my paralyzing fear of his rejection, I craved him in silence. My somber, painful want of his friendship conflicted with my repressed desire for his affection. Unfazed by my aching sadness, I delighted in imaginative day dreams to satisfy my hunger for his radiant perfection.
