Charlotte Bronte Ruined My Life
You will be my Mr. Rochester, cynical and jaded.
I will be your little Jane.
Plain and meek, but not naturally austere.
Full of thoughts and wonder and feeling,
and so curious about the world that you
– and only you –
can show me.
You will feel it, too,
The tug of a string that runs from just beneath your left ribs
to just beneath mine.
And binds us together.
(And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly...)
You will despise everyone but me.
And I will return to you always,
even when common sense
and common decency
tell me I should not.