You held me close, our bodies interlaced. I still remember that first touch, our first kiss, and how you ignited a flame in me I thought I’d lost. The ice came off in sheaths. Each time I frantically reached for the last of my shields, they melted through my fingers. Each word, each touch, each kiss - the shields dissipated. I felt myself submerged in emotions I had frozen long ago. I could not rebuild the walls I had relied on for so long. I could not refreeze the waters through which I am now, still, wading.
These waters no longer scare me. I was once terrified of their depth, worried I would drown in them or worse - I would lose you to their current. It wasn’t my own current I needed to fear - it was the one within you, the one I suspect still boils beneath the surface.
I wonder how and whether you continue to wage your war.
I could always tell when you left by your eyes; even in a brief glance, when you’re still physically present, but so very far. My heart laments the pain caused by your who else and what others, the pain caused by my presence in your life.
I wanted only a real chance to navigate this with you. I wanted to study you until I knew every last letter. I wanted to hold you close, safe, protected. I wasn’t afraid of the complications, of traversing these waters with you. I knew the risks and still, I chose to stay. I still chose you, I chose us - even when you couldn’t, even when I knew you were too afraid. Maybe I was a fool for doing so. It changed something innate within me. Something I still haven’t finished identifying and exploring. A sweet salinity in the current.
I can never, would never, force you to do this with me. I could only ask. I accept your choice and your withdrawal, even if I question its origins and resolve. I hope one day the grief will abate, that the nostalgia - of the salt of your skin, the furrow of your brow, the bright hue of your gaze, the weight of you pressed on me - will feel more like a sweet memory than a sharp sword. You are etched upon me. My love for you has become an intrinsic part of who I am and who I’m yet to become.
I hope it was more healing than hurtful. I hope you carry the softness of it within you. I hope its glow brings you warmth whenever you tire of your fight. I hope you continue to find fire within.
For but a fracture, I remain.
Jan 2025