Every perfect man has his imperfect story. He swoops and he sweeps, he cowards and he shakes; he always stands with two feet on the ground, his tall spine straight and upwards with that big head looking down at me. I'm so small against this giant, I think. He's friendly, at first, and I love the friendly giant. He holds me like he loves me, he dances with me and laughs with me. He is the lovely giant and I love him.
I had sleepless nights, days driven by dream, where I couldn't think of anything but him. His big body, his big face, his big heart with enough room for me to fit and be free. I drove myself mad thinking of him, and he thought of me, too. It was perfect. This was love, I thought. He was perfect.
Months blurred away and the seasons changed. I grew smaller and weaker, more clueless and lost; he remained tall and stable. I fumbled downwards, an inch at a time, until I found that hole and buried myself in my failures. My dreams shook and I shook to the hard bone. I felt alone, and though he was there, lurking from his height, he didn't look the same. The love I had had transformed, he had transformed, and I had lost him.
Why did his love for me transform? I was a breeze, a light, a lovely touch, and soon I became wicked, weak with the look of a child. Don't leave me, I said, but he kept circling around the hole I was in. Each day passes and he says he loves me, but I don't feel the words on my heart. The meaning has transformed. He's gone from me now and I don't know how to get it back. Was it me, who had fallen? Am I to blame for this change in heart? My weaknesses sunk me down. I need time, I said. Wait for me, please. But I am pathetic. A child, merely. He sees me and he doesn't know what to do. He can't leave me, he won't leave me. But the love he had for me is love no longer. It looks more like responsibility. He can no longer touch me, hold me, love me; he merely sees me down below, fumbling in my little hole. I cry for him, but he just stands and waits. He can't pull me up, he can only watch and wait.
His love for me is lost, it transformed as I sunk below. I blame only myself for my failures and mistakes. Why am I wicked and naive? Why am I weak and afraid? I miss the love we had before, the first love, the last love, but where has it gone? Where has he gone? Away from me, away from myself, I can't even remember the last time we touched. Forever goes on and he waits there awkwardly. He wants to leave me, I know it, but he feels a responsibility over me, which I cannot understand. Don't look at me with that fatherly look, I am not your child. Love me like you did before, when we were equals.