As published on Honelife.com
On a foggy Sunday afternoon I sat at my kitchen table with a cup of Early Grey looking out the window at the sea of evergreens in front of me.
It made sense when it ended. Slow as the day started, quick as the finish came. They said having a warm body in your bed is a cold battle and your sheets are never the same. I still feel those hands etched around my waist and your warm breath on the back of my neck. It's a miracle how I fell out of reality in to a dream world.
You came in to my life like a back door curve ball and I wasn't ready to swing away. A long time ago I was loving the one who was changing me in to someone I didn't know. I was falling asleep alone at night inside a body that didn't exist. I've never been someone's one and only. Not even my own. I'm the second favorite sweater you will wear because you got a stain on your go-to. I'm the other mascara tube you will use because the first one ran out. I don't know how to be the only thing you need to have. So I play safe and shuffle myself in with the other cards hoping, just hoping I'll be the ace you pick out and don't put back.
And isn't it crazy to think you wanted to keep me all to yourself on a Summer evening after looking in my eyes for the first time. You saw me hiding undercover, you unveiled me when I had wrapped myself in layers, you spoke to me with a genuine curiosity of knowing everything there was to know about my naked soul. And when I pushed and pushed and pushed you away, you came back. You sought the girl who denied you entry, broke your heart and told you you weren't enough. You loved the girl who loved somebody else and you saved the girl who broke down and walked home in the pouring rain.
I kept you safe in my back pocket like a treasure from my childhood. I locked you away in a memory as a selfish keepsake and I realized my love for you when you spent your last bit of energy on what drove you to exhaustion. I pray I'm not too late for your love to find me again. Because the way you look at me when I laugh is what they talk about in the movies. The way you speak softly and touch gently as if you were terrified to break something so delicate. The way you keep promises and send roses to my doorstep. The way you fought and continued to fight for a dimming light, a failing potential. The way you stood by my side with no questions. It was the only way I ever knew.
The fog has bit and the dust has settled and my cracked heart is in the palms of my hands begging for you to heal it. I see a future with you in it and I'm scared to tell you the wrong thing that will make you change your mind because I know I was wrong and I know I changed mine. How easy it was to not say what I was scared to admit, but my heart speaks louder and it's beating out the words I don't know how to tell you.
You flew away with my heart in your hands and left me the outline of your lips etched on my forehead. The chapter ended, but the passion still roared. Tucked away in a box marked, 'Until next time, my love.'
On that still, foggy Sunday afternoon in it's purest and most distinct form, I remembered what closure felt like.
Silence mixed with burning, blazing fire.
