“I will always love you.”
I didn’t quite understand what you meant. I saw your eyes behind those billowing tears. They outlined the words your lips couldn’t attempt. They whispered tales of how our love would remain unfinished.
You couldn’t say it then, but I saw it hiding in every curve and corner of your face. You meant you’d carry our love like Atlas shouldering the world.
I don’t know if it’s because our timing wasn’t right or if we hurt each other because we didn’t know how to hurt.
Maybe it’s that we didn’t come from the same star, but we convinced ourselves we did.
We fit like we were made for each other. Not in our souls, but in our bodies. My hands filled all the dips, craters and empty spaces. I was meant to fill your empty space. I’d like to think God would at least give you someone to fill the empty. I believe it was me, which makes it much harder to swallow.
I didn’t say it then, but I meant it too. I will always love you. I still feel you when I breathe. I exhale expecting to hear you inhale beside me. Sometimes, when my hands are cold, I reach for the ghost of yours. I forget remembering you hurts. I tell our stories, wistfully, because we never truly got the ending we wished for. My heart gets snagged on thoughts of your smile and how I never accurately conveyed how much it meant to me— especially when I was the cause of it.
I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance to tell you I loved you as often as I felt it. Sometimes, it felt like a little secret between me and my heart. I wanted to protect it. I should’ve told you though. I quiver when I remember the sound of your voice. The way you made my name sound safe between your lips. We deserved a better goddamn ending.