If you’re on the verge of settling for less than you deserve, she can’t stop you. Your indecision was a decision and the hesitation was probably the last straw. You see, she’s fallen head over heels with the danger and intoxication of a thousand chases that manifested before you even exchanged a glance.
Maybe it was the exhaustion from the fights in which she took center stage that made her hang it all up. It’s not easy to perform in front of an audience year after year, only to have the curtains close with nothing but one or two flames burning for an encore. And even then, it was mostly to see her drown. It never ended well and she always ended up collapsing into leather straps laden with needles in pure exhaustion because she was the hunter and they were the prey. Something about that just isn’t natural. But once she caught the bug, it was hard to get well.
She laid many cards on the table and some that probably terrified most, but truth be told, she was playing with a full deck and many more cards were just waiting to shine in the spotlight when they spilled on the floor. But no one ever waits long enough to witness the reality in the strength it takes to clean them up, wipe them off and arrange the intricate house of cards, balancing on faith that, together, they could stand.
She gives it up – what shallow minded men believe is too much too soon, but she does it for a calculated reason. There is so much more to everything and a lot she hasn’t revealed because she knows from experience now that if you can’t handle the beginning, how can you build the end?
She deserves better than a mere beginning; an almost. She deserves the beginning, middle and end. She deserves to be the hunted and to feel desired, adored and respected.
The curtains always close before the show starts. Peeking around the corner, she sees no one stayed to watch. Dust fills the air and haunting creaks echo behind the veil as she walks off the stage floor.
You were more than enough. Each of you. But the cold, hard truth is that you liked the idea of her while never once considering the reality of her. It takes a warrior of the mind and heart to stomach that passion and fury locked within her burning soul.
Flames can only grow if fed by fire or a billowing wind. And I’m afraid your flames are doused with water that saturated lovers past. And I’m afraid your breath has weakened through repeated attempts to shine in front of someone whom you longed to love.
And it never ended well for anyone. And it never does when you let go of the one that got away.
You’re left with ‘what if.’
But by then, it’s too late because she’s either nursing her wounds in silence or lacing up her shoes.