The way we used to love, expressed by the soft dip in your cheeks as you smiled and adored the fact that I was yours. We could become anyone or anything we wanted, it was a love that motivated so deeply that it reached your bones, it reached the inner workings of the soul.
The way we used to love, in a way that smelt of morning coffee, as you made it just the way I liked it – a little bit of milk and two brown sugar cubes. In a way that one imagines the perfect morning with the love of their life, breakfast in bed, with golden rays of sunlight streaming into the room where love was made, where intimacy bloomed, merely hours before.
Like a sunflower in the midst of an almost infinite field of green, we stood out. The way we used to love was blindly seen by all, remembered by all. Every path we walked and every soul that laid their eyes upon us, would remember us as a pair, a pair that was interwoven, a pair that would not be broken. The sun, the moon, the sky, and the stars, would know the way we used to love one another. Within the deepest roots of the earth, every element would know your name and how it sounds on my lips, because of how much I loved you.
The way we used to love, it was as if we were imitating art, imitating the love that everyone spoke of. The way we used to love seemed like a soulmate kind of love, that transcended boundaries and obstacles, but our love gently yet furiously faded out, like the echo of your name in my heart in the blackest of nights.
The way I used to love you was like honey, sweet, and soothed you and healed you in all the right parts. The way I used to love was like fire, it burned, but it was a warmth that was inexplicable, a warmth that softly sang that you were home.
The way I love now will never go back to the way we used to love, because we did not love each other the same. A mere façade, an illusion of rose-tinted glasses. The way we used to love introduced its’ fading out, with the rough breaking of a heart. An unbearably painful yet critical step in the process of a separation. It became as clear as day that the way you used to love was minimal, a mere crack in your closed heart, while my fragile heart poured for someone that was not enough. It poured for you.