We are aware of the moment when they become more to us than just another human being.
We start to dream of possible tomorrows, we dream of us holding our hands every Sunday, dancing in the cold rain because, why not?
I see your pale skin, your curly hair, and your gorgeous eyes, and I see them when I am dreaming, but also when I am not.
A kiss is no longer just our lips together, but it is us.
This heat wave running through my whole entire body, tickling my toes and stopping at my heart, to make it race faster than if we were wild horses running on the tracks.
I see when you look at me and smile. Maybe you think I am a cute flower worth smiling about. I am curious if you really see me? Can you see inside my eyes? Please don’t mistake my hope and my fire for life with desperation, because I assure you, it is not.
Sometimes, when we are together, your mind feels like it’s busy drawing things about life, and I get it—life is everywhere, life is vast. I don’t want to take that space that you need for yourself and for your life.
I cannot imagine being outside and not holding your hand, maybe I am afraid to lose you, even though there is nothing that I have. When you kiss me that way—that makes my palms start to sweat—all I can think is take me, all that I am. Let’s get our hearts to kiss and our souls to hug each other once again. Sex is great, don’t get me wrong, I have had it before, and it’s not bad, but it’s certainly no comparison to being with someone you are connected with, through our spirits, our energy, through this time.
Your soft arms are around me and they make me feel warm, cared for, and so damn alive. Do you feel this too? Is your heart melting with mine?
Our moments will vanish too soon from time. Tomorrow they will cease to exist—they will be in the past— but for my heart shall remain engraved, like a memory of your mom kissing your forehead, it will make us smile. Then we will kiss that past moment and let it fly because it will no longer be our moment since I know you will be gone.
I don’t wish to care less, or to love you more softly, that is definitely not who I am; I share my all with you, even if you might feel like it’s too much. I feel you holding back, and maybe that is all you allow yourself to feel or maybe you care for me like that. You care like a squirrel cares to hold its nuts. They bring you joy, they fulfill your tummy, but you can’t eat them all day or you will just get fat.
We can laugh all day—if I am being silly, you join me and make a fool of yourself. Singing songs or simply throwing each other grapes in the face. Then it comes that moment, when I feel like sharing how much I care, you lean back, your mind is open, your heart is closing right away. I realize it’s not me, you are just not ready to love, to share—and that my dear it is okay. It’s your path.
Maybe I am here to remind you what life with someone you love could feel like, maybe I am a rock that you can stand upon to dream again; I know you don’t love me or ever will, love should never be forced that way. Love is not external; it’s not in the air, it’s inside each of us—and only you can allow yourself to dream again.
I was in bed; I turn to you and I see your handsome face; you are still half asleep, your hair is messy, I like it that way. You kiss me softly and say good morning (your lips are warm)—what a treasure this moment is. I could see myself waking up like this a lot—seeing you gives me strength. Makes me feel so powerful: I can endure war, winter but not unrequited love again.
Even though you give me such joy and pleasures, I also feel pain inside, because in the red walls of my heart I know, you cannot share with those who don’t have open arms.
I am blessed that we met; your brief appearance in my life has ignited a light so pure, so gentle. A light I had not experienced in such a long time. For this, I thank you—your kindness, your care, and all those kisses I enjoyed so much. Goodbye, my love, I must now mourn this loss even though you can’t lose what you don’t have.
I want to clarify I never wanted to have you, you are god’s son, not mine. I was hopeful that your heart will decide to open and that everything you are could flow, in a beautiful, imperfect melody with mine. I know I will see you in my memories, like a beautiful ghost of Christmas past, it’s time to set you free, go be yourself. Love will come.
Spring always follows winter, and I shall heal and bloom one day and be prepared for you; for love again.