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13 September, 2009

The Power of Words

A few years ago, when I was an undergraduate student, I had a fling with a German from one of my French classes (go figure). He was tall, lanky, a lost soul, like me. I walked in to class the first day, saw him sitting there, and knew we had a connection. Curly blond hair, ripped jeans, a leather jacket, scribbling something in a worn leather journal. He was eight years older than me, a graduate student. A poet. Brian.

Thanks to my own journal keeping, I will forever remember the lovely notes he wrote me.

The world is a better place because of you. You are an intricate part of the plan, whatever it is. I love you for it.

Your eyes perplex me, capture me...and then your heart. Sleep well cherie, you who have led me to folly with just a bat of your eyelashes. My love, my sadness.

Our affair was contained to campus. Covert kisses between library book stacks, and many, many afternoons spent sitting beneath a tree talking about life, philosophy and love. He was smitten with me and I, I was smitten with his notes, his soul. Never before had I been sent love letters, or so pursued by a man, not a boy. He perplexed me, intrigued me. I would lie awake after receiving a text from him in the middle of the night, fascinated that this man would find me attractive, that I captured his thoughts at all hours.

I was never able to truly figure him out. To this day, he remains a puzzle to me. He graduated, sent me a text saying that he would always think of me, and disappeared. I have not heard from him since. But every once in a while, I will open the pages of an old journal, read his words long erased from my phone but forever etched in the creased pages and marvel at the impact that the people we meet have on our lives.

I wonder if I too, cover the pages of his journal.

4 comments:

Scintilla @ Bell'Avventura said...

Wow

Madeleine said...

Beautiful, Anait. I think this is one of the greatest things about life: to encounter people that fill the pages of our journals, that fill the insides of our hearts.

Not all women are lucky to experience the love of a poet. I'm glad you did.

Keep on writing.

Vivian said...

What a wonderful story! Thanks for sharing. I had something quite similar happening to me, with a poetic guy. It was short-lived and intense, left me a bit confused, but now makes me smile when I look back.

Kayleigh said...

I loved reading this. beautifully written ... and boys dont ever write me poetry. they just obsess over me on an unhealthy level or tell all their friends I'm a crazy. sigh.