I Didn’t Quite, But I Almost Loved You

I almost loved you.

In the early spring, when I drove you home at 3 AM and for the first time we talked to each other like we had something to say.

That night as I sat next to you on your couch unable to even look at you for fear that the magical spell compelling us to bare our souls would wear off as the sun chased the stars away.

I almost loved you.

In a tequila soaked haze when you kissed me for the first time and the only word that managed to escape from my lips was “whoa.”

In the nights spent aimless in your car. I told you all my stories while you never took your eyes off the road. Crossing county lines and taking blind lefts and rights until there was nothing left to do but take me home.
I almost loved you.

As you spun me around that smokey room. We were the only ones dancing to that oldies song but I forgot to be embarrassed as it felt so good to be in your arms.

And I almost loved you.

Even as you were begging me not to. As you were telling me that all you’ve ever known is how to be broken and that you’d break me too if I let you. You promised me my heart was too fragile in your clumsy hands. My heart didn’t stand a chance and you knew it. You didn’t know then that it was already too late.

And when it was 3am again but this time the air was filled with all of my bitter words and your silent resignation that you knew it was better this way. And this time all I could do was look at you. Desperately searching for the boy I thought I knew behind his ever growing walls. The air was so heavy with all the things we weren’t saying, like how almosts were never going to be enough to a boy who was almost already gone.

I almost loved you still.

And as weeks will turn to months where I forget they way you run your hands through your hair when your nervous. Or the wink you throw my way that says more than any number of words, I want you to know that I almost loved you. I almost always will. And I only almost hope you almost loved me too.