I heard a poem the other day, a line has haunted me for days.

"I want to be loved not because I'm the antidote to your loneliness, but because your loneliness runs parallel to mine." -Whitney Hanson.

I stood in the same spot where I met you.
An attempt to (literally and figuratively) retrace what lead me to you.

I thought I would feel something.
Love?
Sentimentality?
Regret?

Instead, I felt...
nothing.

You're still here.

Your laugh reverberates inside my chest cavity.

Your touch has etched semipermanent grooves in my skin.

Your smell lingers in the oddest locations.

And yet, you're gone.

I fantasize about you begging for another chance. That you’ll come to your senses a third time and remember how fantastic we can be together. How much fun we would have in life.

Just so I can have the opportunity to respond, “I love you so much, but one of the two of us has to love me more than you”.

I believe we have different definitions of love, my love.

I experience it as a force, unparalleled. My heart chose you. I knew I lusted, liked, cared. I was afraid to love. It took me five months, and then it hit me. It hit me so hard, it reminded me that love is not a choice.

I saw you. Your faults. Your darkness. The shadows that pass over your eyes. The moments fear appeared and you shrugged it off. Your intricate complexities shimmer in the morning sun pouring through the window, casting shadows and creating rainbows.
And yet, I love you.

I offered you my heart, from my open palm. It came with an embrace that told you that you were safe. You took it, because it was offered, because it felt good, because you wanted to be loved. I told you about the shadows that follow me too, about my fears, about what I needed in return. And I continued to give for months, until I was too tired, until I didn't have more to give without getting.

Six months ago; we parted as friends, there was no anger, there was some pain. We were different people who wanted different things. Hearing you tell me you didn't see a future with me three times was enough. The end of a relationship is always sad, it's a mourning of your future. A forever what if. But I could still feel my heart beating in my chest. It felt like the right decision.

Five months ago; you told me pretty things, suddenly. You told me space and time made you know that you love me. I asked for more time. I asked you to really think about these pretty things. I asked if you were just lonely, or if you missed me. I asked you to be careful with my heart, it's been broken too many times to count. You promised it was real.

Three months ago; I started to believe you, you remained so consistent,  appeared so introspective. I offered to see you. I still knew how I felt. We talked, for hours upon hours. There was so much hope, my love. I had so much hope.

One month ago; you wanted to go on a date driving me through neighborhoods you could envision us living our lives in.

Two weeks ago; I asked if you were okay, and you told me you were just tired from work.

A week ago; you came to my family's welcoming of the New Year.

Three days ago; I asked if something was wrong and you told me you wanted to wait to talk about it.  
Three days ago; I asked you to share, because I felt excluded from our relationship.
Three days ago; you told me you couldn't do this, that your  psychedelic experiences the last month have made it clear that you need to be free. That my response to you pushing was pulling, that it was off-putting. That settling down with me meant settling in life. You then told me a narrative, created a caricature, that made me question if you have ever understood me, if you ever listened to the things I did express. You told me you had a new life plan; it was a plan for you, not for us. You told me you were running to the other side of the world.
Three days ago; I told you I was confused, that this felt like a mistake. I asked you to just talk to me. But I saw your wall quickly, and I knew it was over.

Four days ago; I KNEW we had a future.

Three days ago; We parted and I felt my heart break. We parted, and you still want to be friends. There is confusion, there is pain.  You no longer want the same things. Hearing you tell me you didn't see a future with me four times was too many. The end of a relationship is always sad, but this one was devastating. I could see it, you showed it to me. I can't feel my heart beating in my chest anymore. It felt like the wrong decision.

You freed me.

And when I return to the safely fenced space, you open the gate and remind me there's a whole world out there, waiting.

I have begun to forget who I was before I met you.

The thoughts that used to consume me are growing hazy.
The life I once desired seems more like a fictional novel, a character, a bedtime story.
It's distant.
It's no longer mine.

I'm no longer sure there was a before.
It only feels like there's a now.
It only feels like there's our future.

Serenity.

A warm cup of coffee in cold hands.
Quiet stillness on a porch.
The sounds of water and birds.

A book in my lap, transporting me to another world.

You scare me. No... you terrify me.

You're strong and stable.
You're free and floating.

You're a summer breeze.
You're a wild adventure.

You're everything I have ever wanted, and thought I didn't deserve.
And you're going to have power over me.
The power to love me.
The power to break my heart.

The little voice inside me is afraid. It tells me to run to safety, to my familiar little lonely space.

But this is my year of bravery, and that little voice can go straight to Hell.

I wanted to let you know I forgive you for your fear of losing your independence.

The fear that came with a cost: each other.

Remind me who I am.
Awaken me.

Call me by my name.
See me with a  piercing cold clarity.

I'll come running.

From the top of a cliff, I joke with a stranger about my fear of heights.

In response, he jumps into the icy waters below and beckons me to follow.
With a single smile, I am convinced.

I, too, jump.

Another's light fingertips that leave deep gouges in my skin. Is this giving or taking?  

Restless heartbeats intertwined, frantic, exhausted; mixed with explosive breaths.

Skin that isn't mine, both soft and firm.

A body pressed against me.
A merging.
An escape.
A sensation without a thought.

The ability to lose the sense of self to a sense of us.