If I Were To Never See You Again

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If I were to never see you again would things be that much different? Would I let go completely? Would I stay because that is the only thing I know how to do best? Would I mourn your loss? Would I cry uncontrollably or at all? Would I turn mute? Would the world be as it once was before?

Would we have spent our last time together in a different way or spent it as we did… in bed.. eating good food.. making love.. and reading books on the porch? If I knew that I would never see you again, would I have stayed?

Would I have told you different things? Would I have held you in a different way? Would I have kissed you more? less? not at all? Would it be that much different?

If I had known that I would never see him again I would have told him our story with me as the omnipresent narrator. I would tell him all my feelings of love, of loss, of hurt, and of joy. I would tell him the exact moment I knew that I loved him, how I felt when he kissed me for the first time, how I felt when he pulled me close into his chest that first night. I would make him remember these moments to keep in his heart so that he could never forget the love I felt from him.

I would tell him how I see the world and how I saw him fit in it. I would tell him my fears of not being the specific part of this world that I want to become. I would tell him my fears of failure, my fears of the cruelty and violence of the world, and I would tell him my fear of losing him.

I would tell him the future of us: the house we wanted to get, the corgi we wanted to raise, the countries we wanted to travel. I would tell him how much I would give to have that all with him so that he would know that that is all I had ever wanted. I would tell him the cities we could move to, the storms that would pass, the trials that our relationship could crumble under.

Most importantly, I would tell him of my life without him. I would tell him of my sadness and of my loss. I would tell him of the nights I would spend alone and the mornings I would reminisce with the many photos we took at the Golden Gate Bridge, New York City, the theater, the fair: our love story. I would tell him that I would try to move forward when the pain became more bearable. I would tell him that I believed that love would find a way into the broken pieces of my heart, that someone would come along to glue my fragile pieces together and that I hoped that he was okay with that. I would tell him how he would be a part of my existence till I existed no more that my last breath would be used to say “I can’t wait to see you”.

More so, I would tell him that the world will miss him. The world will miss all the possibilities that he could have given this world. I would tell him that I will see him everywhere I go. I will see him on the beach where we use to lay to nap or while I was humming, cooking alone in the confines of my apartment since we always loved to hum and dance in that cramped space. I would tell him that I would share his story so that he would never disappear: to my friends, my future lover, and my future children because they all need to know why I am the way that I am.

Lastly, I would tell him that my words would never do any justice to how I would truly feel, that I would take everyday slowly, with care. I would tell him that I will be okay without him, and that with him we could have had one hell of an adventure.

Then, we would lay together wrapped in the comfort of each other and dream.