You Are Not My First Love

I know you were not my first love. You were not the one who helped me recognize what love felt like; not the one to share my firsts; not the one who made me relate the smell of freshly beaten coffee to a specific person.

You were not the one I imagined dancing to every song that played on the radio; and not the first to boast of having cumulated the knowledge to write my biography in a few months. I know you feel like someone stole your rights. I know you wish you could be there to claim them.

I know you were not my first love. You were not the one who scarred me; not the one who left me convinced that I would only get married someday as if making a compromise with life. You were not the one who left me feeling like my body bled every time I heard the name, and then feel it trickle down colorless and thin on either side of my nose. You were not the one I longed to be with for the longest time; not the one I romanticized in my head as a blessing personified. I know you wish you could go back and relieve me of the pain. I know you wish you could hold that power on my heart someday.

I know you were not my first love. You were not the person you’ve heard about for months; not the one about whom my confessions speak tons, in sighs that you feared could turn into tears. You were not the one who left me with a lesson to build walls, fortify myself against what seemed like a calamity in disguise of ecstasy. You were not the one whose walls you try to see through, wanting to break them down, but trying to climb them instead lest you break a part of me with them. I know you wish I had never put myself in a shell so that you could experience me as the first did. I know you wish that every day.

I know you were not my first love. I know you wish you could be there, in the first’s shoes, witnessing all that I had to offer then along with all that I offer now, being sure about making it so far if you could be in those shoes. I know you wish we had grown together, playing games that did not put the heart at stake but nurtured it like never before. But there’s something I wish you could know.

I wish you could know how easy it was for me to fall in love back then; and things that come easy lose their value with time. I wish you could know that I don’t just love you with young emotion, but with a mature decision that doesn’t dwindle like the former. I wish you could know that I could build my walls higher, but they’re just high enough for only you to climb through; to enter and then feel safe with me in their confinement, yet open for us to welcome our family into.

I wish you could know that you haven’t filled someone else’s shoes; you haven’t been asked to wear a pair that would pinch and hurt. I wish you could know that you’re just my size and I’m ready to share my shoes with you.