I knew Him once.
Never had a man known me so thoroughly. He could tell you my favourite colour, icecream and band. He could tell you my birthday, shoe size and Google+ password. He could tell you my deepest secrets, darkest fears and innermost desires. He could speak for me, act for me, even decide on my behalf.
He knew me.
And I knew Him.
I could tell you what drove Him. I could tell you of every battle He fought throughout the war he called Life.
I could even tell you how many of them He lost.
That’s not His face I’m looking at. That’s not my Seth.
Endless nights looking far into the galaxies, sharing every delicate thought in the crisp midnight air. The endless days where not a whisper punctured the comfortable silence, me laying on his lap, as his lips brushed mine. The endless hours our bodies, in ecstasy, merged as one.
He and I were separate entities, but together we created something powerful. Though it took he and I to create it, the emotion was bigger and stronger than us both in holisticity. I loved him with every fibre of my being.
Not ever did I consider the end.
The endless still moments – time would not pass, as fondly, deep into his eyes I would gaze. Through the hazel windows to his soul, I saw him.
Bare. True. Left untainted.
I saw my Seth.
This is not the man I once loved.
The many tears shed. The many voices raised. The many bags packed, and ties frayed.
Circumstances were not in our favour. Sometimes love, itself, is not enough. With fond memories, belongings and heavy hearts, we departed – never to see each other again.
Yet, here I look into the haggard face of Seth.
Cold eyes bored into mine. Through those hazel windows I no longer saw him.
I no longer saw my Seth.
I saw a man consumed by the grip of Ares.
Through bulletproof glass, he gestures for me to pick up the telephone.
Orange never had been his colour.
I knew Him once.