When I first met you, I thought you were young and naïve. I thought you were a mistake. To me, you were the scratch to an itch. The one-time-thing I’d love to forget as soon as the door was rudely closed behind you. But by God, you saw through it – through my bullshit, my aloofness, the whole manipulation to get you into my bed. You played my game. You played it so well, I was blindsided when you shut the door behind me instead.
The player got served. And just like that, I chased you till I got you.
You were worth the chase.
Do you remember the day I stepped into your office, the first time I saw you? You looked at me with those eyes, so intense that I lost focus. And till this moment, I still cannot forget that day and the words you said to me.
I love you. Even after all these years, I still do
I remember the nights you stayed awake just to see me drool so you could take my picture
Or that time when I got home and took a nap, only to find you in front of me when I opened my eyes, your nose almost touching mine. You stuck out your tongue and licked the tip of my nose.
It was in that moment I realised I loved you. I knew I had strong feelings for you but I didn’t know I loved you. Sometimes, it is the simplest things that make one realise he’s in love.
You are all everything that was rare and uneasy to find, tamed and wild, brave and uneasy, flighty and reserved.
Unpredictable isn’t the right word to use for you. You are words and you are its opposites. How one person can be many things still amazes me.
But I became the murderer called love.
I cost you your happiness
And you became a fortress made of fear.
I messed up. You forgave my shit over and over again till I lay my hands on you – not once and not thrice. I messed up big time.
I lied. I did things I can never be proud of because I couldn’t understand how you could love me. I took it for granted, threw it to your face that morning and drove away, leaving you on under that bridge
I became a used towel hung in the bathroom to dry, swayed lightly by the breeze of insecurity. I became worn clothes scattered on the floor waiting to be washed. I became the sad music playing calmly in the background. I became an individual sitting on the bed, awake and tired. You became a phantom, hovering around each and every spec of the air, filling it with your absence.
I broke my own heart when I broke yours.
Even after the rejection I’ve gotten from you over the years, I’ve refused to move on.
I’ve been told to move on, by you and by friends, by my ex-husband and most recently, an acquaintance. But that must mean there’s something wrong with me. Not because I miss you so much it hurts, but because you still are my other piece.
At the end of the day, I realise why the most popular metaphor for passion is flame. I am ready, ready and willing to do whatever it takes to keep the light burning as long as you live.
I won’t let you say goodbye. Not after these many years. I still can’t find the good in “goodbye” when it comes to you. Not when I’ve found you – someone I want to do life with.
Please, let me come back. Please.