But, nonetheless, you were there, to hold me when I started to shiver, to make me laugh and to kiss me when I lost myself for a minute or two. You were consistent, you were constant, you smiled when I ran my finger down your chest, you kissed me when no one was looking. You were there, and I don’t know what to believe because of so.
I miss the colors of black, of the darkest of blues, like when we walked around at night, with me reminding you to look up at the stars. I miss the sense of warmth, the comfort that came from being held in your arms. I miss the feeling of love, the joy that came from lying besides you, the simplicity that came when our lips lingered just moments apart.
And then I remember, I never experienced such, I never knew what this was like. It was too short lived, like a dream. It was just an ephemeral thought, a hopeless wish.
You were never mine.
You were never able to see the sky that I admired, instead you saw something blank. You were never able to hold me, you were never able to feel the happiness that I felt upon your touch. You were never able to love me, the way that I loved you.
I need you, I can’t just have a part of you, a small piece that’s easy to offer, but I need all of you. I need your body, your mind, your thoughts, your being to be presented to me, not for me to own, but for me to know, to understand. I need to be there for you when you’re struggling, to know what to do when you’re sad, to be able to run my fingers against your hand and my lips against your warm skin. I need to make things easier for you, to sit on your lap or have my legs wrapped around your torso, to lie in bed with you, our legs intertwined and my fingers running through your hair.
Ask me if I am alright, please, ask if I am okay. Notice my wretched smile, the way my inconsolable grin avoids my eyes, and ask if there is anything that you could do to fulfill its intentions. Bring your face closer, your mouth barely an inch away from mine, and reach down for my freezing hands. Let me grasp at your fingers, claiming the stability and comfort that they have to offer, and let me fall into your embrace. Please, ask if you can stay, ask if you can lessen my agony, ask if you can love me.
I would have loved you, if I could. I would have given everything to you; my thoughts, my heart, and my reason would have all been yours. If I had loved you, there wouldn’t be a doubt in my mind, there wouldn’t be a moment’s hesitation, when I uttered the words, “I am yours.” But it’s impossible, I have nothing to give you, I have nothing of value. My mind has grown empty, my words meaningless, and because of that, my love cannot be yours.
Sadness and love are all-consuming, making a person’s head drop and forget the rest of the world. They both overwhelm one’s thoughts and ideas, ignoring everything but what’s on their mind. They change a person, taking away parts of them to give to another, stronger force. They leave a person dumbfounded in their presence, uncertain to how to act, how to live, how to overcome it. Sadness and love are stunning emotions, their power and reputation unmatched, their symptoms equally feared and respected.
I loved you at one point. That changed though, with time. I grew to need you, to utterly desire all of you. I craved your word, your sound, your touch, even the way I felt when you were just a few feet away from me. I wanted to be with you always, to forever feel the smile and warmth that came automatically with your presence, to consistently have the peaceful thoughts and tolerable beliefs that you provided. I wished to offer you what you effortlessly gave me; this sense of calm, euphoria, simplicity, and delight. I would have done anything for you when my petty feeling of love changed into something entirely different, into something I could only describe to you.
She was lonely, scared. The dark night haunted her, the riddance of light and the slow passing of time isolating her from the warm world. She felt her eyes sting, a familiar pain pressing against their backs, desperate to release the pressure that grew as she kept everything inside. She felt her body stiffen, her stomach clench and her fingers grow numb, resembling the dead. Like the forgotten, she felt alone and gone, she felt impure and undesired, she felt unworthy and empty. Like the unwanted, she felt similar to the frightened hours of the night, the darkness its own version of sorrow.
“Is there something wrong with me?” She whispered, her voice shaking.
She felt his fingers squeeze against her skin, his reaction unexpected, as her words seemed to mean something more to him than what she had intended, “No.” He answered, his words frightened, “There is nothing wrong with you.” She lifted her head to look into his eyes, the happy look replaced with a foreign, serious one. He ran his fingers against her spine in an odd comfort and pulled her closer again, resting his head on top of hers after she wrapped her arms around his chest. Neither of them spoke, her silent tears loud enough to fill the entire room.
