Maybe we were never in love but I remember those moments, that were something more. I hadn’t felt it before yet it seemed natural to feel this way about her. The way she spoke of you with others, in no way unhealthy, yet possessive in the sense of pride and support. To the subtle differences of her voice when you were alone, the guard that is let down. The person you thought you knew, is there but much deeper. They seem to make more sense now, the things you don’t know but hope to know one day.
I still think we can love each other, even if we aren’t defined by traditional standards. Besides, we have to. There comes a point when it all is too much. You’ve come too far to just stop, the fire might not be there but love is more than that. There comes hard times, times when it is over. But that is still your person. Things continue on, out of the sake of something else, whether conscious or not. We continue. We live through these moments to reach something. Some innate desire to finish what we started, or just the fact that we really cannot stop. This person, has become a critical part of your life and serves at the very least a structural purpose.
We know everything about one another, they are your other half, in the least romantic way. And maybe that is a part of love we do not consider. The mundane, biological dependency we acquire. However, underneath there is still something more. An unfamiliar sense of almost hopeful nostalgia for the future.