The first time I ever set my eyes on you,
My heart didn’t spark the way that a match would.
But rather the way a fire would slowly eat at a sheet of paper
That is slowly hovering over a lighter.
You know, I find it far more than coincidence,
That on two different occasions we had to pray for each other.
Both times the youth pastor arranged for everyone to get into pairs
And to pray for one another.
But since we were the only ones left without a partner,
We would have no other choice but to pair up.
And those were the two moments
Where I felt the safest I had ever felt in my life.
The way you gallantly took control of the situation,
With a dazzling display of command, was otherworldly.
You softly placed your right hand on my left shoulder,
And your left on my right upper arm.
And I took one final glimpse into the blue waves of your eyes,
Until we both bowed our heads in reverence.
And there we were, never having exchanged a word in our lives,
And you began to pray for me.
I basked in the eloquence of your voice,
All the while envisioning your long luscious blonde hair.
I completely forgot what I had said… or done afterward.
Because I was too mesmerized by your firm stability.
I’d nicknamed you the “surfer dude” in my mind.
Because I never had the guts to ask you your name.
And mainly in part of your golden wavy mane.
And the image of you followed me through my sleepless nights.
I still remember the church’s Christmas party.
Our group was having an ugly sweater contest,
And of course, you’d won first place, wearing a long-sleeved shirt
That was a mock sweater with a false 6-pack bulging in the middle.
I mean technically it wasn’t even a sweater,
But that’s beside the point.
There was something surreal about you,
Something I’ve never seen in anyone else.
But all this quickly ended one day however,
When I stepped into the chapel,
And was swiftly taken aback, seeing that
You had chopped of your lion’s hair.
You resorted to a slicked-back haircut,
Looking like a pencil eraser.
Standing with your flawless posture,
Vertical like a lamppost.
And I thought, maybe this would be the end.
But, man, was I wrong.
I was so wrong.
One day our youth group went to a park near the beach.
And I, being the reticent type, decided to walk away from the crowd.
As I leisurely made my way to the playground,
And as I slowly swung on the swing set, I observed the little ones.
On slides, on see-saws, and reflecting on that pure, naïve, innocence.
Until something magical happened:
I saw you shirtless.
You zipped past my downcast eyeline in the distance,
With a buff, robust, chest hooking my attention immediately.
And so there you had been, playing football with the pastor’s son,
Going back and forth from my eyesight,
Like a view taken from a car window on a highway,
In which cars just pass you by.
And in that moment, I had to accept the sad truth,
That we would never be anything more than perfect strangers.
As I’d play out my life the way I always have:
Acting like nothing this world could ever throw at me,
Will ever faze me.