You Were Never In Love

A person staring at the sunset from behind a large waterfall in the Southern Region of Iceland
Ross Hughes / Unsplash

Love used to be something only for you and me. It was the blanket over us as we slept at night and the air in our tires as we cycled the city. It was our matching backpacks and the tears you cried when I was in the hospital.

But you were never in love. 

After so many days had gone by I still had no idea how you felt love. The things that made your heart race. But I knew they were there. Because sometimes when I saw you floating away into the universe, you’d touch the stars and your eyes would glisten with something resembling love. But when I’d speak, it would pass. You’d fall back down to earth and adjust your glance to me. And whatever was there just moments before glazed over. You locked it away.

Somewhere I never knew to look.

The words you said hung empty in the space between us. Because there was always space. No matter how hard I tried to fill it. You let me feel the things you wanted me to feel. And I never questioned it. Never thought to ask if you meant it when you said you felt them too. Because love is more than a joint Froyo points card. You spent all of our points anyway. Just like you spent my energy every day when I did the things I needed to try to feel loved. The days I spent waiting for you. I still didn’t even see it when you told me you didn’t like who I was when I was happy.

Meaning you didn’t like who I was at all. 

You told me to be a flaneur. Which is ironic because you always told me I’m unobservant. But now here I am observing.

Every face that passes is one I’ve seen before. Except for the one I’m looking for. I keep waiting for you to turn up. Unannounced as always. But this time will be different. As you’ll be greeted with tired eyes. A face older than you’ve seen before. No longer will I look at you with need. Just exhaustion from all the years you spent draining me. Reaching for my kindness and wringing it out. Letting it sit on your lips before you close the door on me again. Yet I am here once more. In St Martin’s. Waiting for an unwanted moment. Just to prove to myself that I can do it without you. To ask your permission to feel loved again.

But I’m fooling myself.

This will be one more time you leave me alone, feeling abandoned for leaving the questions I never ask aloud unanswered. TC mark

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