This is the opening sequence of my love/relationship theme.
I loved her more than my mum sometimes, that was the effect that this prominent sultry Italian woman had on me. She was my first and only ever true love, the one I lowered my defences for, like an army lowering it's drawbridge over a moat. Only to raise them again like a fool,because I could not portray real love in return.
I know I will never get over her because she always seems to be on my shoulder whispering sweet poetry, reminiscent of a cherub in a Michael Angelo painting.
I changed and turned away from my freinds, so that I could face her fully. She was the structure that allowed me to build my life, without her in those early days, I dread to think of what I would have demolished. It's as if my fall had been broken by her hand of softness, then raised by her fingers of love.
We met a college in the 80s when we were young and optimistic, are paths crossed on the staircase as we brushed passed each other accidentally but purposely, as serendipity greater then any magnet drew us together. Are eyes locked like a combination to a safe, only to be unlocked when we had run ouf stairs.
She was the only girl I ever noticed because I was to busy looking at her. If I did not see her throughout the day I felt fragile and miserable, but would change the moment I saw her caring smile. If I was a cello then she was Jacqueline Du Pre playing notes of beauty. We shared a common love for all pieces of music, and she became my nightingale who sang in Berkeley square.
The sensations I was experiencing were amazing, everytime I thought about her, I would feel so much love developing inside of me. Everything about her was a joy to watch, the way she made a paper aeroplane , to watch it glide across the refectory to land fortunately on my table. In addition to see doodles of Georgina loves David embellished all over it, so glad I kept that keepsake.
In our time of romance, we had no mobile phones to send simplified messages of love. Pen, Paper and thought were the master of conveying your devotion. How I would toss and turn at night as my mind would run faster than chariots of fire, thinking of her reaction to letters I wrote, with words I never knew I had.
Georgina was so soft and gentle she was like a delicate bird in a cage, whatever the weather or predicament the world would shine bright on me through her. I loved her Raven Black hair that rolled down her back like Ferrari's prancing horse. her skin always glowing that I never noticed her blushes.
Her natural scent was so alluring that any perfume she wore, seemed to have been made especially for her. god I miss those scents. Her striking face always expressed sincerity; I don't think it was in her nature to express anything else. That flawless body she possessed, would knock you out quicker than an overhand right from Riddick.I can hear her know fussing over me making sure I'm ok. All the things she did for me made me proud but sad, because I could not give her all the things I thought she wanted, when all she wanted was me.
Incidents that mean nothing to anyone else, but mean the world to me, will always remind me of our encounter. Pretending to be a great chef and forgetting to throw away the packaging in the outside bin. Dancing naked around the flat when drunk, for us to end up in hospital because I slipped and pulled my back.
Refusing to hide under the bed until I've removed my expensive sweater, when her dad called round to her flat unexpectedly. Driving her home after passing my test, only for it to breakdown at a round about and we just stared at each other and laughed.
However, most of all being with someone who did not take life to serious enabled me to look at life in a calmer way. Even though it is hard for me now, I still conjure up moments that bring a rye smile to my face.
When I look back to our relationship I clearly see what I should have done, hindsight can be so prevalent. I know I have made the biggest error of my life by not marrying her and raising what would have been our perfect children. I have kept every letter and card she sent me and sometimes when I read them, I can still smell the faint aroma of Oscar De Le Renta, which was her signature. I don't know why I keep them, they just seem to be part of me an give me comfort. Even when I die, I want them buried with me to accompany me on the journey.
We laughed, loved an left each other, but our hearts remain in a place only we have the key to liberate. They say if you really love someone then you should let them be free like the wind, letting her be free but ending up with a empty heart is not a nice exchange, but it's something I will have to live with. I hope one day to love again, but in the meantime, I will be patient and smile.