He is the Colossus and I am Rome

It is a dreary night when we first meet. He whispers mythical things in my ear as the fog surrounding us rises to great heights. The outlines of black cypress trees are juxtaposed against the sickly brown sky. Behind us, the wind crashes into the waves and frothy water spills over onto the harbor. The wind blows with enough force to overturn the little wooden fishing boats in the distance. The wind cannot topple us, though it tries. His grey eyed gaze fixes me to my spot, and I am left paralyzed by the imprints his soul leaves on me in those first few moments of our acquaintance. His smile makes me euphoric. It is the kind of genuine smile that could light a whole citadel. I feel the legends of old lovers seep into my hands and slowly dribble into my bones. Raw passion sears my skin. It is burned onto my heart with an iron brand. The wind howls and blusters across the Roman Forum. Wind destroys everything eventually.

But he is the Colossus and I am Rome, and when we fall, the world falls.