It feels like a gasp of air that can’t be inhaled. You come towards me but still feel farther away. We feel like what mountain peaks are to the ocean depths.
Two who are similar, but two who are opposites.
We are two hearts that love, yet two mouths that don’t speak each other’s language. Words with no meaning. Words that get lost through our ears. ‘I love you’s’ that fall to the floor.
Love is expressed in a word but explained in a feeling—a feeling we lost and a word we don’t understand.
I believed you were sand. You say you try, but you choose to be still. You see, sand can be molded and shaped and rearranged, but what you are is a rock.
A rock, like many things, doesn’t move. Doesn’t change. Stubborn. Effort is the opposite. A force that resembles energy. Because energy can cause changes. But effort doesn’t exist between us. We stayed put, like rocks.
This isn’t love.
You choose to be far. I touch you but cannot feel you. Someone who is close but mindfully feels far away. Here. Together. In the same space but still planets apart.
Love isn’t meant to be a battle of space.
Space contains stars, beautiful stars, that twinkle effortlessly, like your eyes used to when you looked at me. Space is a shared existence we offer to one another, the ones we feel connected to.
But you prefer just space. Space between us.
I hope you take it one day, love. I hope you grasp onto someone’s un-heart-shaped heart. The real stuff that cardiologists call ‘heart’.
The stuff we could never create.
A heart that beats faster for those who bring love. The breath that fills every inch of your body from mere glances. Touch. Words. Actions.
This is love.