The Evil Called Love

When I saw him, I knew he's different.  He doesn't just look at me; he sees me. Really sees me.  There's this intensity in his gaze that's almost intimidating but comforting at the same time.  It's as if he's peeling back layers, sifting through the façade I’ve so carefully built over the years, and finding the person underneath.  A person I didn't even know existed anymore.  When I talk to him...   His eyes don't glaze over.  He's not waiting for his turn to speak, but listening—every word, every pause, every breath.  He hears the things I don't say, the things I'm too afraid to voice.  He senses the hesitations, the fears, the unspoken dreams that I've buried deep.  And he reacts...  He asks questions, not out of mere curiosity but from a desire to understand—to know me better.  No one has ever made me feel this vulnerable, and yet so safe at the same time. I can’t be a liar around him; he'd call me out in an instant.  With him, I c

My man puts me on a pedestal, and I let him.  It's not about pride or arrogance; it's about knowing that he truly sees me. In his eyes, I am something special, something worth admiring.  I can't help but feel a warmth spread through me every time I see that look in his eyes. You know, it's easy to be skeptical in this world, to doubt the sincerity of someone's admiration. But with him, it's different.  It's in the little things, the way he listens when I speak, the way he surprises me with my favorite coffee on a rainy morning, the way he holds my hand as if it's the most precious thing in the world. It's in those moments that I know he genuinely admires me. And I get comfortable on that pedestal.  Not in a way that makes me complacent or takes his admiration for granted, but in a way that makes me want to be the best version of myself.  I want to live up to the image he sees in me, to be deserving of that admiration. Sometimes, I look at myself in t