I have a habit of keeping for myself, souvenirs from every relationship. Not material goods, or memories, really, but words. Sentences said to me that leave a lasting image in my head.
For every relationship there has to be one sentence that is beautiful—perfectly crafted and presented, with a thin layer of sugar coating. If that sentence does not exist, did I even experience a relationship?
I carefully curate these sentences and wrap them in saran wrap, keeping them protected from corruption and corrosion of memories to come. Sometimes, when I am feeling nostalgic, I take them out from the deepest drawer, and spread them out on the bed. They are insubstantial, but at least they do not disappoint, always holding up to expectations that I was not aware of having put up.
If I lay them all out, I can count five. The third is the most precious to me: I think we are fire, does that make sense?
It had taken me two seconds to disagree.
Him and I, we were not fire. We were water (still are), liquid, pliable. We took the shape of anything in the universe. It was the togetherness of water that took to me—we are separate but we are the same. Our volume changes, our chemical makeup not always in balance.
But most importantly, I knew we were prone to spillage. In the end, we spilled over the edge of the glass, onto the tiles, where no matter how hard you try, you can never collect it all again.
I think words are incredible. Unsaid, they linger in the air, swirl around your mouth, and dissolve on the tip of your tongue. Once spoken, they are forever—you cannot take them back. Words simply exist—there is no other way to express it.
If I give you my words, specially conceived and forged to your every curve, then take them and keep them close, because I cherish them so that to give it to you, I am parting with a portion of myself.
If I give you my words, you are different.
Keep the sentence and even if all else falls down, let it remain at the bottom of your drawer. Let it stay there, because likely, the idea of you will stay the same way, tucked into the corner of my mind.