I wanted you.
I wanted you to be mine. but you never were.
you were late night laughter and early morning banter.
you were teeth and tongue and lips and eyes.
you were lazy stretches and long languid looks across the room.
you were my motivation and my muse. my homeboy and my future husband.
you were my heart walking around on two legs, my lungs breathing life into me with your kiss. any moment in your gaze was magnified by your physical touch. melting into your memory whenever we were apart. I so wanted to belong to you.
I gave you all the grown-up love I had to give and you made me feel so good that I thought you were giving it back.
I know that I was blinded by your beauty. by your smile and your laugh and the way you showered those you love with the best of you.
it honestly took you walking away from me when I needed you most to realize your “love” was only a half-love. it was what you had in a time when you were broken beyond repair. you made me feel invincible and brilliant when I didn’t know what my next step would be or what was going to happen when I got to my final destination. and maybe (I hope) my love propped you up enough to carry you where you needed to be.
Perhaps my memories of us are tainted by passion, by the depth of our conversations, by the heat of our lovemaking. I don’t know.
What I do know is this…
I see you now.
now I see you loving her in the LIGHT the way you never loved me. you love her in front of the world where I was only your baby behind closed doors. you claim her like I was never claimed. that ownership is powerful. it is sexy. it is confidence. I never had that. my love for you was swathed in questions and wondering, hopes and wishes… never plans. never future. only momentary.
I will not complain though. I love you still. I wish happiness for you always. even in my single-ness, I can celebrate the beauty of your commitment, your partnership, your new blended family. I love you enough to appreciate your joy and hers. to wish you well.
I wanted you, yes.
but I also want you happy.
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