I want to write about you.
I want to write about the first day we met, my first impression of you and how I had decided there was no way on earth would I ever fall for someone like you. How I was so sure to have my guard up to prevent anything you could do from changing my mind.
I want to write about you and what I felt the first time my skin touched yours. That for a number of years I was too afraid to feel the comfort and familiar warmth in another man’s embrace.
I wish I could put into words how, for the longest time, I was so sure that I had managed to bury my heart in the safest depths, so that no one could ever unearth my heart. It could only be forced open by you, your undeniable charm, and your truth, realizing that perhaps, I wasn’t that cold at all.
I want to write about that night when it started to drizzle and how the wind was blowing against my skin as we traveled along that road paved only by streetlights and the night sky. The troublesome thoughts running inside my head that diminished the thin line between what was right and what was wrong. At that moment, I actually had no idea what was right.
All I knew was that you were there and you were all that I needed.
I want to write about you. The sound of your voice, the way you smile and laugh and how I couldn’t possibly understand that for a short period of time I was determined to be everything that you needed.
I want to write about that night as I forced back the tears forming in my eyes, as my chest ached trying to comprehend why you didn’t want me anymore. I want to write how it wasn’t fair to be at the losing end when I knew I gave everything you asked. I was finding the words to understand how yesterday I was certain you were mine, and then the next morning you weren’t.
Perhaps, it was never clear to me how even the most beautiful species could be the most sinister. Your poison seeped into my every vein and that I couldn’t quite see what it does to my body but I could feel it to my very core. You were my beautiful species.
I want to write about that morning after I had awakened from my bitter slumber. I knew you weren’t an existence anymore but a memory. And a clear fading one at that.
I want to write about the months that passed; and how nothing has changed since the last day I saw you or heard your voice. How I wish you were here with me and that your source of happiness is me…not her.
I want to write how your leaving has suddenly changed my mind. You made the hole of loneliness even bigger than it used to be and now I am running through the motions ready to give up all the things I used to believe in just so I could have you back. But I know, I may be a little late because trying to win you is close to impossible.
Winning means a game, its players and prize but we all know that right before it starts, the result is the same–I have already lost you.
I want to write about you. I want to draw you through words as I always have whenever I get overwhelmed with thoughts I couldn’t handle through my small metaphorical hands. I want to build you through all the words I know that could summarize our story, you being the most beautiful pitfall I have ever fallen to.
But I guess after all I have always been afraid to write about you. I always lose the things I write about because just how you were to me, words have become my refuge and escape from all the things I’d rather forget. So I guess it is better to leave this paper empty of the words I am struggling to contain than lose you again.