Your faith was strong but you need proof. You saw her bathing on the roof.
The moonlight and her beauty overthrew you. She tied you to the kitchen
chair, she broke your throne, she cut your hair and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah.
When Jack first met her, he was bluntly introduced to a lifestyle far from anything he had ever known. He had suffered his share of tribulations. He had known the harsh reality of the streets, of the jails, and of young independence, but he had also known love. He remembered his mother, he remembered her love for him, and he knew that he would give anything to feel that again.
When he first met her, he saw a girl who had never been loved and who had never known safety. She came from a home where the rampant drugs and alcohol had poisoned a family. Abuse had destroyed all hope for shelter and protection, betrayed a young girl and allowed pestilence to invade her mind. What she had seen and what she had experienced made her devoid of hope. It obliterated any notion that someone could love her, and when someone did, she didn't understand.
Jack knew his life was bleak, but he knew that hers was barren. And naïve as he was, he knew what it meant to get involved with a girl like her. What befell them only reinforced his fears.
She was wary of him, even after they grew close. He would touch her and she would flinch. She seemed detached and somewhere else, and she didn't know how to trust him. He would hold her close to him and she would lie there, complacent, perhaps even comfortable, but slightly wary nonetheless. No one had ever held her before. No one had ever loved her before and she couldn't bring herself to accept that he did. Sometimes she didn't even want him there, but he wouldn't let her go. He would stand steadfast if she ripped into him. Afraid of falling in love, she would push him away. She would lie to him, yell at him and all the while, he wouldn't budge.
He would let her scream, let her shout, let her tear him apart, but he would just watch her. He maintained an amount of composure while her anguished state was killing him inside, then, when she was tired of screaming and tired of crying, he would pick her up off the floor. He would wrap his arms around her, stroke her hair and will her to sleep until exhaustion would overcome her.
Maybe I've been here before. I know this room. I've walked these floors. I used to live alone before I knew you. I've seen your flag on the marble arch. Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
All she had known was abuse and in turn, it was all she could offer him-at first. But as she abused him and as he waited it out; as she threw her verbal punches and as he repeatedly dodged them, resurfacing by her side, a revelation seemed to slowly take hold of her. He wouldn't leave her, he wouldn't walk away, and he wouldn't hit her back.
"Sometimes I hate you" she would tell him. "Why are you with me? Why are you staying?"
"It would be too easy to leave." That's all he would reply.
Jack had known love. He had known the vibrancy, the joy and the happiness of being loved, and he understood that she had never felt that. He knew that she could, and he knew that she would, but he knew he had to wait.
He watched people fall in love. He saw their wounds healed, their fear allayed and their minds set at ease. He knew it wasn't going to be that easy for him or for her. He watched people in love, living lives that seemed flawless in worlds that seemed idyllic. Meanwhile, he was trying to teach her what it meant to love someone and the process was creating new wounds, and deeper sorrows. He heard people proclaim that their love conquered all and that love can see you through anything. He knew that love wasn't like that, he knew that loving her could possibly mean his own demise, but he couldn't leave her, even if he wanted to.
There was a time you let me know what's real and going on below, but now you never show it to me, do you? Remember when I moved in you? The wholly dark was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah.
He stood steadfast against her fury, against her pain, and eventually, he began to prevail. He saw in her a new light. She saw in him a kind of strength; a kind of reliance she never knew existed and she trusted him for the first time ever. He had never swung back, he had never run away and he had never closed his eyes. She knew he never would. She was awed by his sheer humanity, his unadulterated love for her, but at the same time she was angered. She didn't deserve his love and she knew it.
Maybe there's a God above and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who out-drew you, and it's not a cry you can hear at night. It's not somebody who has seen the light. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
Love was something new to her and it took an amount of adjusting. She had to learn that it wasn't a contest. She had to learn that it meant forgiveness. She had to understand that she had betrayed him, but he had absolved her, and slowly, very slowly, she began to see this. Loving him back became feasible. Loving him back became something she wanted. One day, she discovered, it was something she could do. The fights became less, and her cruelty had stopped. She loved him as he did her and her excuses to fight him off seemed extraneous. He saw it in her eyes as they began to shine more brightly. He would lie with his head on her chest and feel her breathing, deeply and slowly. He would watch her sleep, soundly and relaxed, reveling in every moment, thankful for the change. They were far from perfect, two lost souls superfluous in a world of power and money. Riff-raff from broken homes, living life day to day, wandering the streets without directions and trying to heal from deception and injustice. But they had each other and they loved each other and somehow that was enough.
When Jack first met her, he was bluntly introduced to a lifestyle far from anything he had ever known. He had suffered his share of tribulations. He had known the harsh reality of the streets, of the jails, and of young independence, but he had also known love. He remembered his mother, he remembered her love for him, and he knew that he would give anything to feel that again.
When he first met her, he saw a girl who had never been loved and who had never known safety. She came from a home where the rampant drugs and alcohol had poisoned a family. Abuse had destroyed all hope for shelter and protection, betrayed a young girl and allowed pestilence to invade her mind. What she had seen and what she had experienced made her devoid of hope. It obliterated any notion that someone could love her, and when someone did, she didn't understand.
Jack knew his life was bleak, but he knew that hers was barren. And naïve as he was, he knew what it meant to get involved with a girl like her. What befell them only reinforced his fears.
She was wary of him, even after they grew close. He would touch her and she would flinch. She seemed detached and somewhere else, and she didn't know how to trust him. He would hold her close to him and she would lie there, complacent, perhaps even comfortable, but slightly wary nonetheless. No one had ever held her before. No one had ever loved her before and she couldn't bring herself to accept that he did. Sometimes she didn't even want him there, but he wouldn't let her go. He would stand steadfast if she ripped into him. Afraid of falling in love, she would push him away. She would lie to him, yell at him and all the while, he wouldn't budge.
He would let her scream, let her shout, let her tear him apart, but he would just watch her. He maintained an amount of composure while her anguished state was killing him inside, then, when she was tired of screaming and tired of crying, he would pick her up off the floor. He would wrap his arms around her, stroke her hair and will her to sleep until exhaustion would overcome her.
Maybe I've been here before. I know this room. I've walked these floors. I used to live alone before I knew you. I've seen your flag on the marble arch. Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
All she had known was abuse and in turn, it was all she could offer him-at first. But as she abused him and as he waited it out; as she threw her verbal punches and as he repeatedly dodged them, resurfacing by her side, a revelation seemed to slowly take hold of her. He wouldn't leave her, he wouldn't walk away, and he wouldn't hit her back.
"Sometimes I hate you" she would tell him. "Why are you with me? Why are you staying?"
"It would be too easy to leave." That's all he would reply.
Jack had known love. He had known the vibrancy, the joy and the happiness of being loved, and he understood that she had never felt that. He knew that she could, and he knew that she would, but he knew he had to wait.
He watched people fall in love. He saw their wounds healed, their fear allayed and their minds set at ease. He knew it wasn't going to be that easy for him or for her. He watched people in love, living lives that seemed flawless in worlds that seemed idyllic. Meanwhile, he was trying to teach her what it meant to love someone and the process was creating new wounds, and deeper sorrows. He heard people proclaim that their love conquered all and that love can see you through anything. He knew that love wasn't like that, he knew that loving her could possibly mean his own demise, but he couldn't leave her, even if he wanted to.
There was a time you let me know what's real and going on below, but now you never show it to me, do you? Remember when I moved in you? The wholly dark was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah.
He stood steadfast against her fury, against her pain, and eventually, he began to prevail. He saw in her a new light. She saw in him a kind of strength; a kind of reliance she never knew existed and she trusted him for the first time ever. He had never swung back, he had never run away and he had never closed his eyes. She knew he never would. She was awed by his sheer humanity, his unadulterated love for her, but at the same time she was angered. She didn't deserve his love and she knew it.
Maybe there's a God above and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who out-drew you, and it's not a cry you can hear at night. It's not somebody who has seen the light. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
Love was something new to her and it took an amount of adjusting. She had to learn that it wasn't a contest. She had to learn that it meant forgiveness. She had to understand that she had betrayed him, but he had absolved her, and slowly, very slowly, she began to see this. Loving him back became feasible. Loving him back became something she wanted. One day, she discovered, it was something she could do. The fights became less, and her cruelty had stopped. She loved him as he did her and her excuses to fight him off seemed extraneous. He saw it in her eyes as they began to shine more brightly. He would lie with his head on her chest and feel her breathing, deeply and slowly. He would watch her sleep, soundly and relaxed, reveling in every moment, thankful for the change. They were far from perfect, two lost souls superfluous in a world of power and money. Riff-raff from broken homes, living life day to day, wandering the streets without directions and trying to heal from deception and injustice. But they had each other and they loved each other and somehow that was enough.