When I tell people I’m not ready to date yet….what I’m really saying is I’m not ready to stop missing you. That they will never compare. That they could have my body but they’ll never have my heart.
I remember like it was yesterday the way you laughed while we ate Pho and had thumb wars in between, how you always cheated and said you forgot what you were doing when I looked at you with my pretty eyes. Remember that day? Remember when we had a picnic in your work van because you got called in and we couldn’t go on our hike so you came and met me in the parking lot and we ate sandwiches while you played with my hair. Remember when we ate soup in the back of my car and you fell asleep on my lap while I played with your hair…always stealing moments…always knowing the clock was ticking, that time was never on our side.
I think too about how you hurt me, whispered in my ear that you loved me even if it made me squirm and protest. Even when I begged you to stop saying it, so you would say “arugula” instead because you said you loved saying the word as much as you loved me and that you had never loved anyone that way and knew it was poisonous for two people who didn’t know how to love to want each other so much. I tried to excuse your terrible behavior, the way you would just not show up sometimes or say the most condescending things without apology. I could see that everything that came out of you was tainted by a past without love and consideration for your needs as a boy, for the insanity of your teenage years trying to be tough, trying to control the savage part of you that seemed to win out everytime. The part that still does. The part that does not hesitate to hurt me. Even when I came to see you, so sick, and you told me to marry you and I could see the sincerity and the almost joyful look on your face that you were making me uncomfortable and weak. You looked me up and down and waited for me to break. But I waited. Until I got in the car. And I cried so long I thought I might die. And I only saw you one more time, at our favorite place, where we both knew I had hardened myself to you, that I would only ever feel in the past for you again. And when you asked me what I wanted, I said “to never see you again”. And you stood up and walked out. Yes you did. And not one man has stood in your place since that I didn’t hate for taking up that space.
I am a terrible judge of character. That has proved itself time and time again. This last man so ridiculous that I laugh out loud at how long it took me to see it. But I always think of you, of your filthy heart and how long I had to hold it to see how lovely you were underneath. Even though I knew you would do everything in your power to destroy me, because it’s all you know and all you have ever been able to love about yourself…your power. The sheer size of you that dwarfed even me, that helped you intimidate and overshadow even the bravest of souls. Your barrel chest…oh how I miss that. Running my fingers down every rib. I loved you. You are the only man I have ever really loved. And I can’t make sense of these mere mortals who try to claim me now. And they never hear me when I say I will never love them. They won’t believe me, tell me I will love again. I can almost hearing you laughing. At me. At them. You own me. And everyone else will just slide off the slippery wet of your lips on mine…the way you would hover over my mouth and just breathe with me. Wait until I had calmed and met you in your energy. How long has it been now? But I still feel it. I still feel you. But feeling all of that means I feel all of your ugly, awful, haneous parts too. I creeped your boards…ripe with carnal and wanton images. You’ve become human again. Sinner. Lost. Beast. I wipe away my tears and thank God you are gone. Whoever is in your life now is paying for your agony. I can feel that too. And I simply send you love and love and love.
It’s all I ever do.
brandiland.net 