smoke & mirrors

It was the faintest of smells… a mix between cigarette smoke and him.
A memory:
of him holding me, kissing me,
enveloping all that I was in that moment.

It made me smile to think of him, to still be able to smell of him even as I drove away. My heart had been so consumed with fear for so long, and all this time I thought it would take me so much time to be ready.

Ready.
I was nowhere near ready for the force that he was to be in my life. Nothing I could have read, or prayed, or written could have prepared me for such a man. Or for such a moment.

A moment.
I was so taken by him so quickly. So quickly that my mind was in a haze. Looking at him was like looking in a mirror. Two tattered souls trying to find the pieces to put back together.

Together.
Two different souls, two hearts. That fit together like a puzzle. It’s like the missing pieces had always been inside of him. As if I was meant to feel the hurt, the pain, the broken heart. So that he could be the one to come fill the gaps. To bring me back to life.

Life.
I had never wanted to the future I had dreamt of so long ago, more than I did in this moment. A dream, a vision, a feeling of hope.

Hope.
Tangled and woven into the smell. The faintest of smells. A memory being made as I drove away. A realization that when the smoke cleared and the moment became a memory, I would no longer look into the mirror with fear.

I would look beyond that and see him.
The mixture of cigarette smoke
and a mirror into my soul.