You were a storm that I braved through with nothing but a raincoat and my heart.
I took your hands as we danced around the raindrops of empty promises and withering hope. Little by little, the waters started to rise and I wasn’t sure if I was being baptized or being drowned by your flood. But for you, I all too willingly held my breath and smiled as the currents carried us away. The winds were terrifyingly strong, but they were also powerful enough to blow my fears aside.
But just like any other storm that arrives with chaos, you have also disappeared quietly into the abyss, leaving behind a wreckage unlike anything I’ve seen before—I was your casualty.
I looked around and all I saw was the ruins of the house I built, with walls meant to keep people like you away from me. I looked around and realized that there was no one else to blame but me, because after all, I left the gates open for you.
So, I started building the fences even higher. I made sure that doors could only be opened from the inside. I painted our story on the ceiling as a painful reminder and a glaring warning. The floor was covered in a carpet made from the countless times I broke down in tears because of you.
But I am a survivor. Out came a rainbow that I drape around my body whenever I think of you. I rest my head in the clouds as I relentlessly slip between my daydreams and the reality of what happened—and what didn’t.
In my daydreams, you stayed with me.
In reality, you stayed with one foot out the door. The drizzle of your attention comes in small tides, especially when you’re lonely, and then leaves once you’re not. And I admit, it was nice to be quenched every now and then. The sun still shines whenever you walk away from me, but it hurts more because even the sunlight has now been perpetually stained by your shadows.
In my daydreams, we made it.
In reality, we didn’t even come close. All we do is live in the flashes of a tomorrow that we’ve long abandoned. All we do is get off in a thunderstorm of maybes and almosts. The downpour of blank pleasantries and depleted assurances never really ceased, but we both know they were just that: words and nothing more. We are illuminated by lightning, a strong momentary flicker that fades away with a blink of an eye, but the pain from each shock has been etched into my skin.
In my daydreams, I no longer love you.
In reality, I really wish that I no longer did. But I can now see that this home is slowly metamorphosing into an evacuation center, a haven where both the survivor and the storm can rest and hide from the rest of the world. Here we stand in the perfect place to heal our wounds. Here we stand in a place where we’re meant to meet and a place we both know we’re not meant to stay.
My love, you are a storm that I continue to brave through with nothing but raincoat and what’s left of my worn-out heart.