I can fly… but I want his wings.
I can shine, even in the darkness, but I crave the light that he brings
Revel in the songs that he sings
My angel Gabriel.

I remember linking him the song. “This is how I feel about you,” I said. “I’m okay without you, but I need you around to make me whole.”

There was sorrow in his words, the weight of the thirteen years of life experience he had over me, when he replied: “No, you don’t.”

I can love… but I need his heart.
I am strong, even on my own, but from him I never want to part
He’s been there since the very start
My angel Gabriel.

We lived 248 miles away from one another, but we might as well have been separated by oceans. I was 18, living with my abusive boyfriend, working as an electronics salesperson. He was 31, living with a girlfriend he didn’t love, working on his PhD in political science. Still, we clicked. We matched one another well. We were vulnerable people on the verge of mental breakdowns who took solace in each other’s unquestioning, unwavering love.

There was a library in the mall I worked at; the librarians there came to know me well as I arrived for lunch every day, logging into a computer and hopping onto AIM to talk with him on an account I made just for that purpose. We didn’t always talk about love or life. Sometimes we talked about music or gaming or books. Sometimes we talked about mutual friends.

But every conversation ended the same way: I love you, firefly. I love you, pixie.

For lunch, I’d eat a soft pretzel on the way back to work.

Bless the day he came to be
Angel’s wings carried him to me
Heavenly.

He broke up with his girlfriend on very positive terms. I sobbed to him and confessed every horror in my life that I didn’t have the courage to flee from. He kept my heart beating. He made me feel worthwhile. Even as the monster I lived with kept me teetering on the verge of death, I took comfort in the fact that someone out there knew what I was going through … but still thought me worthy of being loved.

We never physically touched in a romantic way.

I can fly… but I want his wings.
I can shine, even in the darkness, but I crave the light that he brings
Revel in the songs that he sings
My angel Gabriel.

There’s no question that I still love him. It’s a comfortable love, tucked somewhere in that part of my soul that I retreat to when I’m feeling wounded. We’re healthier now than we were when we were in crazy love with one another, and all I want for him is happiness and security. I still feel warm every time I see him post on Facebook, and he still leaves comments here and there telling me I’m beautiful, but our relationship is calm. Peaceful.

Because we’ve survived the storm.

We saved each other’s lives.