I wish your scent didn’t soothe me; I wish it didn’t make me feel at home. I wish your eyes wouldn’t look at me like that, as if you could see into my soul, as if you could fix me.
I wish I didn’t crave your arms around me and crave the feel of your lips pressed to my head whenever I felt sad or anxious or fed up. I wish I didn’t lie there at night, in those quiet moments when your eyes were closed and watch you sleep so peacefully.
I wish I wasn’t lying there, thinking how perfect you were and how every moment since you entered my life has been greater somehow.
My body has felt lighter, my laugh more pure, my days more full of excitement and purpose. My writing has suddenly come to life. It’s as if there is no limit to the stories I could tell about you and us, not enough words in the dictionary to ever describe the feeling which radiates through my entire body when you look at me in a way no one ever has, or ever will.
I wish that every moment spent with you didn’t feel life a gift.
I wish I couldn’t recall all of our conversations, even those silly, random ones which crept into the early hours of dawn. I wish I didn’t know every expression that flickers across your beautiful face. I wish your silence didn’t haunt me. I wish my mood was not so dependent upon yours.
I wish your lips did not fit with mine as if they were made for each other, as if they were crafted to fit.
I wish I couldn’t see you coming home after a long day at the hospital and cooped up in the library studying, your shoulders hunched and that furrow carved between your brows instantly smoothed by the image of me there, waiting for you. I wish I couldn’t picture us on a lazy Sunday morning drinking coffee in bed and reading the paper, or just entwined in each other’s bodies, enjoying the feel of our skin pressed together.
I wish the thought of being without you did not make me ache or cause tears to prickle at my stubborn eyes. I wish the fear of losing you did not choke me, or keep me from sleep.
I wish my head was stronger than my heart; I wish love did not consume me.
Sometimes, I guess, I wish I loved casually. I wish I didn’t need every person in my life to be important, to be “the one.” I wish I didn’t want a love I could write novels about. I wish I wanted simple things.
I wish my feelings for you could fit inside a box so that when you’re gone, I can lock you away, so my love for you does not poison my mind, or my heart.
I wish I could know that if things were to fall apart, that I’d remain. I wish I didn’t instantly feel empty whenever you mention a time when you’ll be there and I’ll be here.
I wish I didn’t need you.
But I wished for you, oh darling, I wished for you every time I blew out a candle or pulled seeds from a dandelion. I prayed for you as those tiny feathered seeds scattered the sun-lit fields in late September.
I guess in a way, I was not prepared for this, for us, for you. For a love so wild, so passionate, so full of promise and content.
Maybe I’m just scared of how you make me feel.
But I wished for you, I did.