I did not believe I loved him
By Elana Pavlova
No,
I did not believe I loved him,
for I was only fifteen at the time.
Yet I recall how a strange anxiety possessed me,
when he looked into my eyes.
His eyes were strange and intense,
his long hair fair and wild.
He appeared to me on cue from a fantasy,
that I had cherished since a young child.
He inspired me with both fear and fascination,
neither of which I was willing to betray.
He loomed before me, an insidious creature of allure,
but his arrogance kept my feelings at bay.
He laid before me a great challenge,
an enchantment that only his kind conjure.
I rose to it steadfast and determined,
to prevail and to never give into his lure.
No I did not believe I loved him,
for he was too ruthless and too bold.
Little did I know no matter how I defied him,
he would still keep on my heart, his hold.
I may have beaten him at his own game,
but now I am forever robbed of my peace.
Only now do I realize that it was true:
everything he had ever done was for me.
Too late do I understand him,
the true meaning of his glances.
Too late do I understand the fire,
in his eyes when we had danced.
Standing before me, he implored me,
to fear him, to love him and to do what he said.
In return, he offered me himself,
and every dream I have ever dreamt.
No, I did not seem to even hear his plea,
or to catch the passionate desperation in his eyes.
Blindly I would not heed him,
and of the book I recited the fatal lines.
My impulsive words had condemned him,
and had condemned me as well.
For his final tragic look of utter hopelessness,
forever haunts me and has trapped me in its hell.
Oh how he loved me!
Of that I am sure.
And now I cannot begin to contemplate,
how a life without him I can endure.
He consumes my every waking thought,
he relentlessly haunts my dreams.
No, I did not believe I loved him,
but I was wrong as wrong can be.