An Ode To Losing You

Lately I’ve found myself searching for you in the faces of people I pass on the street.

That is not to say that my feelings for you are still what they once were. I think, rather, that it just became a habit to look for you in public places. A subconscious effort to pick you out of a crowd. As much thought put into it as breathing. I see the right haircut, a certain collared shirt, and I hesitate. But it’s not you. It never is. So I continue on.

My right hand itches. There’s still a slap waiting there, with your name on it.

I think the hardest part about losing what we had was losing your friendship. The sex was great, almost like making love. I cherished the affection that grew between us over the few months. But surprisingly, those are not the bits of you I miss the most.

No – I valued you for your mind. The way you held yourself. The fact that you actually knew what you were talking about.

I’ve met my match, I thought on more than one occasion.

We were like Sisyphus and his rock, constantly pushing against each other, blessed to be in an eternal battle against one another. Or like a sine and a cosine wave, reflecting each other and touching only at the critical points.

I liked the person I turned into around you. Confident. Detached. Sexual. Feisty. The Cool Girl. Desirable. Forever independent. You helped bring her out, the person I always wanted to be. And when red wine ran through our veins in the basement of a frat house, when we linked hands, when we sat on the couch and surveyed the room like gods, I thought to myself, Power couple.

Together, I believe we could have taken on the world.

There was a time, after it ended, when you apologized and said you regretted what you did. Said you had been scared. Do you know, I wonder, that there’s a difference between regretting something and just feeling guilty for hurting someone?

My right hand itches. There’s still a slap there, waiting for you. At first it was for breaking my heart – because yes, I’ll admit it now, my love for you burned crimson like a sunset – but now it’s for letting me go.

Lovers, or friends, we could’ve done anything.