I envy the way he is with you.
The way he looks at you with twinkling eyes he never used to look at me with. The way he smiles at you with laughs so delicate he can’t use it for anyone else except for you. The way he blushes with reddened cheeks I never got to cause. The way he hums you his gentle lullaby that I never got to hear.
I envy the way he acts around you.
The way he fixes his hair the instance you come in. The way he shifts uncomfortably when he sees you smile. The way he glances at you every time he’s telling a joke to see if you laughed back. The way he weakens at the sight of your smile.
I envy a lot of things.
A lot of ways he is with you that he never is with me. A lot of changes he undergoes when he sees you; changes he never bothered to go through when with me. A lot of him that I never got to experience because you were given it all.
People often ask me how I got over it. How I got to gather enough courage and abandon this hopeless chase of love that will never end. I want to tell them it’s simple. I didn’t.
Because every part of me always long for him. For his warmth, for his eyes, for his smile. Every part of me shouts, in the volume only I can hear, his name. Every part of me gets up every day and still hopes to see him.
But I never tell them that.
I never tell them of the pain, of the endless longing, of the broken heart. I never tell them of the bruises, of the scars that will never disappear, of the wounds that will never stop hurting. I never tell them of the memories, of the words, of the fragments that will never appear again.
I never tell them because I still haven’t figured it all out.