I was in the process of writing another story that was supposed to be a short one off and it snowballed on me because it looks like it's going to be a much larger piece than I had originally intended. So, instead, I'm posting this one.

Pablo Neruda

XVII (I do not love you...)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-100 Love Sonnets

This is one of my favorite Pablo Neruda poems, I came across it last week online and reading, along with some comments left by others; it inspired some Richonne feelings in me that I decided to put on paper. One of the comments really stood out to me and I wanted to share it.

"It is a deeper kind of love one that can only be felt by two people who have an understanding for each other. He does not love this person as a material object or a thing of perfection. He loves this person for this persons heart and soul. This is love that two people share as one."

This is so Richonne to me. Please tell me if you guys agree too. I ended up switching the pov from a male to a female, so this is Michonne's voice and her thoughts.

You don't know when it starts.

When being near him becomes vital to your continued existence instead of an ordinary casual occurrence.

You're not quite sure how to feel about that. If you should be happy, if you should be irritated.

All you can muster up in the end is bewilderment.

When did this happen?

But nevertheless, it's there.

Always present now that you're aware, a slight (deep) ache within you, no longer buried, but burning brightly, vividly and all encompassing.

What do you want?

A question Deanna asked of you in her final moments.

You remember how at the time you didn't have answer.

When did it become, him?

A quiet sense of panic starts to develop.

This unnerves you.

In a way fighting walkers and facing strangers, in this deadly new world, no longer can.

You don't like surprises.

Not being in control, having the unexpected occur- it does not sit well with you.

You remember that last time life took by surprise. How your entire world was torn apart, obliterated, in an instant.

No.

You hate surprises.

You develop a shyness around him.

Find yourself oddly coy in his presence. Become suddenly, unwittingly delighted when he responds back in kind.

A thrill, you cannot name, passes through you.

You are flirting.

Have you always done this? and Why can't you stop?

There's a heavy pause, as you both stare into each other's eyes and know, something's there.

Lying just beneath the surface. Ready to burst open.

It's coming.

You both feel it.

You are both aware.

And just like that- you're no longer afraid.

Instead you lie in wait.

For what? You're not sure.

But he does the same.

A day, a week, a month.

It happens over the silliest of things; mints.

Mints. You think with a laugh.

He brings you mints instead of your toothpaste.

You smile.

You can no longer remember when someone kept your wishes in mind.

When someone went out of their way to satisfy your needs, no matter how small.

So you touch him, slowly.

Softly.

You start to hold his hand, to see if it's still there. Despite the passage of time. Despite the idle waiting.

When you turn to look at him, you're surprised to see he's already gazing back. His expression open and relaxed.

Ready.

You realize; he was waiting for you.

And then you kiss.

It's both perfect and not.

Familiar and new.

The warmth of his breath on your skin.

The softness of his lips-softer than you had ever imagined.

The raw urgency of his mouth devouring yours.

You want capture this moment in time-remember every little detail of it, so you can replay it over and over in your head, for those hard days (sometimes they all are) when you want, need, something to smile about.

You keep your eyes open. Watch his expression. His desire exposed all over his face, until you. can't. anymore.

Until you are so consumed with want, with desire; it startles you.

You've forgotten about this wondrous emotion. It feels foreign on your person. Something you did away with, when surviving was the only thing that mattered.

You welcome it now.

You start to timidly taste him with your tongue.

His mouth opens for you freely with a low gruff moan, the sound pulsates all the way through your body; you feel it, down to your toes.

He pulls back.

He gazes down upon you once more, with his stunning cerulean eyes

He's always staring, eyes penetrating right through you, as if looking into your soul, even with the smallest of glances; he still sees you.

and smiles.

He looks so… happy.

Content, right in this moment.

You wonder if he can see the same in you.

You hope so.

What do you want?

For a moment, you wish she was here so you could tell her.

You figured it out.

The answer is simple now. Was simple before.

Silly when you think about it.

You want him.

You want everything that he is.

Good and bad.

Beautiful and frightening.

Chaotic and still.

Vibrantly.

Wholeheartedly.

You love him.

Because there is no other way.

You realize, it was always going to lead here.

To this. To them.

You are no longer afraid.

Have no cause to panic.

Because- right here, in this indescribable moment, is where you were meant to be. Where you both belong.

And even after everything, in spite of it all, you're finally happy too. Because of him.

You smile back.