From the moment I first stepped in the ring against you, I knew.
When we first touched gloves during the referee's pre-fight instructions, I knew.
When your left hook first forced me to kiss the canvass, I knew.
Manny, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. My
one true love, my peerless foe. The crowd screams your name from the
top of steel lungs, but I, your foe in the ring, whisper it from within
my delicate heart.
Destiny has a wry sense of humor and a wicked sense of matchmaking. For how was I to know, I'd meet my match in you? In the ring our courtship played out. Our bodies and opposing wills colliding between ropes. Trading punches within rounds punctuated by bells whilst the occasional embrace – it was all worth the pain and suffering. For what is love if not hurting.
I can and I have fought you three times in the ring. You won over me. But you also won me over. The whole world witnessed your victory. But only I witnessed how my heart surrendered.
As you now ponder a future in politics while I, peaceful retirement, I reach out to you, my friend, my foe, please remember me. Your successes still delight me as much as your failures will hurt me. Remember, I feel for you.
You are and always will be the fighter who conquered my will and my love. Wala kang katulad, Manny.
Note: this is a writing exercise by my friend Bisoy, check his site