It’s Been So Long Since I Thought About Loving You

I hang up the 2-hour phone call with you and sigh, it’s our second one this week. I know I am going to hurt you, but this feels so right. It always feels so right with you, how easily we slip into the end of each other’s sentences, the place holders in each other’s lives, the laughter that’s mimicked. I don’t want you and yet I do, and the confusion is toxic to us both. Can we rewind, take back time – I still would break in your name, for your resurrection.

It’s been so long, I don’t recall, how did I splinter you apart the first time, left you stuck in a loop. Because after a day that lasted a lifetime, shared secrets, hand in hand, all the ways I fell for you. Why did I have to let you go? The setting sun cuddled the contour of your face as we both looked at sunset meant for a puzzle that would elude a description of our love. Beautiful and yet always frustrating, and unfinished- made to be destroyed. It’s a cliché to say it was a perfect day, but what if it really was. You could feel it, the eyewitnesses of our love story, knowing we had found what everyone is pinning for. It was so easy.

And some part of me knows it wasn’t.

It’s been so long, I don’t recall, please wrap your fingers in mine. How I want to love you. Your first name, your last name, your nickname. How I want to sip coffee with you in every and any, city, town, rural village. I want to know how you take your coffee and pick up pastries for us to enjoy folded between late morning light. Let’s get lost in the streets, our love is the only guide we need. Let’s dance the day away in far off places well within our reach. We can forget time and allow are only responsibilities to be each other’s warmth and glow. I imagine your hand on my thigh, as golden rays highlight the air between us until that space becomes place for you and I to collide. You are the sweetness I want to end each day with.

And some part of me knows I don’t.

It’s been so long, I don’t recall, how do you want to hear bad news. I carry these secrets inside of me, wetting my lips until eventually they will dribble out between us, creating an ever-growing mess of what this is. I am screaming into the silence for what needs to be said and cannot be heard. You now and yet you don’t, and maybe you don’t ask because you truly don’t care and that would make this too easy. And I’ve been taught at the youngest age that anything worth having is a fight and you are not. And these walls I keep are likely for my protection not yours. About to surge from my lips, my words’ only intention is to keep you from any proximate distance of delivering me pain. I want to let you in.

And some part of me knows I can’t.

It’s been so long, I don’t recall, remind me what it feels like to lose track of time, with you. Whatever the world has crafted to exist, your timing was meant to be like this. Work, and schedules, and added distractions. Others prevue to you and I reactive to each other like another dimension. The timing of him, and her, and baggage, and fears, and running away, and life altering scares. Our desires must exist for us to have another moment like this. You are not a fight, you are worth having. You are so perfect, in all the perfect and imperfect ways. You are challenging, and growth, and new- it was blinding, too good to be true. The walls around me 35,000 feet to mother moon, just above your altitude. Run away with me to a world we dream of together, where the obstacles we face only bring us closer and our eyes meeting across a room is enough to know how much I am always thinking of you. Your existence came from fairytales, our meeting arranged in the stars, this love blossoming in fields where angels come down to rest.

And some part of me hopes we are both worth this risk.

outward-facing private life with (un)healthy coping mechanisms

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