I allowed myself to believe that I was at a chapter that could be titled as acceptance, but I’m beginning to realize I have yet to mourn myself. I have felt this way before and it almost cost me my life. I promised myself I would never feel so deep ever again. Yet, here I am drowning in my own emotions wondering how could I ever let myself get so close to this feeling once again. I have faith the only difference is that today I possess much more strength and will eventually guide myself to my chapter of acceptance.
It’s a blessing and a curse to feel so deeply. I’ve known it to be so dangerous, yet I allow myself to feel everything with no shame and no fear of the past. Love. A thought, feeling, emotion, question. A topic that has never left the agenda. Do we all really know what love is or are we just creating our own individual definitions and living lives of accepting what we have defined to be true to us? The heart never lied when it said that it wanted what it wanted. Love, often times seen as lust, fear, and borderline obsession. Infatuation with a thought, feeling, or what is right in front of your face. Often a fantasy, a dream, hope that refuses to die. It makes you wonder if you’re truly selfish or just hate yourself.
I craved the ability to love. I saw it in the way my hand sat so close to yours hoping to feel your touch. The ability to grab what was so close, but yet so far away from me. Skin contact that leaves scenes in my mind. Fingertips against mine, your lips on my neck, hands on my hips, your grin against my cheek, hands around my waist pulling me near, lips against mine, my head against your chest, and my fingers combing through your hair. If I close my eyes I can picture you near and it feels so real to me. The countless hours I laid in bed or on the couch with my eyes closed being able to smell the scent of you where you once laid. And in this moment I wish you were here as I cry. I wish you were here as I mourn. I wish you held me and told me you were sorry. Touched me and said everything would be okay. For once I wish you were not absent.
I wish I could explain my depth of emotion. Explain that my craving to love you was more realer than any emotion I have ever experienced. A love that for so long felt so unrequited. I was not allowed to love you. I was never allowed. For where you laid your head you never slept. Never next to me for too long when all I ever wanted was to roll over and spend hours next to you in peace. Teach my body how to breathe in sync with yours. Keep up with your heartbeat. Wrap myself up in your arms and never want to leave. I never wanted you to leave and you never wanted to stay. You never wanted many things. I blushed with excitment to be lead by you, but you never wanted to hold my hand. Scream to the world about what was mine and how I was so blessed, but no one is ever going to know our story. A secret with no title and contributing author. You are an unfinished chapter, an unfinished book, an art piece I will refuse to ever take a look. I couldn’t place you in an art museum. You never wanted to step inside. Another refusal to take a step.
Effort with me was like signing up for a gym membership and never showing up to put in work. A decision to be where you wanted to be. Why is it that after all this time my first time hearing you say you love me is when you tell me you have left me? Was that your plan? Attempts at breaking me and using me for all I got. Knowing I would pour my soul to you. My body aches at trying to fit your mold. Be flexible, be more, be perfect for you. My love was blocked at every entrance and missed at every exit. For you miss me in my silence and ignore me when I scream. For my love was blocked and yet you say that it was never unrequited. What did you even love about me? When did you even love me?