He's tall and very skinny. His hair is black and his skin is somewhat pale. His eyes are almost brown and his nose, deformed and poor of sense of smell. He's not gifted with a good set of teeth, or fine living. He came from a broken family and never finished college. His hands are as big as mine. Our hands were a perfect fit when intertwined. He was my true love. That's how I remembered him.
He was thoughtful, not romantic. He never gave me flowers or cards, but he made sure I go home safely everyday by picking me up before work and accompanying me on my way home. He brings me lunch at night when I'm on graveyard shift, and would wake up whenever I call.
Of all the romances I've had, he's the only one who blew me away with maturity, and sense of humor. He's the funniest, most appreciative, loving and most truthful. He WAS... He really was, until it all went wrong.
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