Pumpkins

He has blonde hair and hazel eyes. Not brown. There's a sort of light that stays in them, that keeps them from becoming completely brown. They're beautiful. He's tall and when he wraps his arms around me I fit inside his shape perfectly. When he laughs it makes my heart jump. Faintly. Discreetly. Politely. When I do something he thinks is cute he wrinkles his nose. He wears a bracelet on his left wrist that makes him look manly. He's the guy every girl wants to love her. Dominate. Attractive. Polite. Gentlemanly. Sweet. Who knows how to kick someones ass but also knows how to keep their cool so they don't have to. The bad boy with the good heart. The Hollywood icon.

Until him. I felt this need to rush into love. If love was cliff diving, I took a running start. I closed my eyes. And I leapt. I felt the exhilaration of the fall and the painful landing. It would take months to completely heal from it. Not only the pain from the inevitable impact, but the pain from allowing myself to leap again. To fall in love without thinking. To impose identities onto the men I loved who they weren't, and more than likely would never be.

The love I have for him breaks the mold I had made for myself. I walked slowly to the edge, allowing myself to take in the scenery. I let my toes hang off the edge and grip the ground beneath me. Held my arms out. Left my eyes open. Tipped my head back, and breathed deep. I let the wind move my hair, heard the rustling of leaves around me. And then I suddenly knew. With him, I didn't need the dive to feel the fall. The experience of knowing all the details, of learning things slowly and processing them, of realizing that I'm in love with the man and not just an idea of him.

His eyes are the shade you get when you mix chocolate and caramel. And every time we lock eyes, it reminds me that I'm falling, even though I'm still completely grounded. That every preconceived notion I had about love is essentially wrong. That I not only know his past but want to know more of it. That I not only hear it but accept it and love it because it makes him who he is today. That I don't have to be flawless to be thought of as perfect. That men can listen (yes really listen) and still love you. That he can see me. Every slip up, every mistake, every regret in my past, and still think I'm his princess.

That sometimes, happily ever after's aren't just made for fairytales,
And sometimes, your prince does come.