When did it all change for you?
When did you stop looking at me that way? You know, the look. The look you gave me when you wanted me. Truly wanted me. I could feel the desire for me down deep in my bones.
When did your smile fade? Actually, I think it has disappeared completely. It used to be so big it took up your entire face. Where did it go?
I remember being unable to keep our hands off of each other. There was a force pulling my skin to yours. It was magnetic.
Do you remember that?
We had to touch. If we weren’t touching, we wanted to be touching. We counted down the minutes until we could. I miss that feeling.
Your hands used to trace my body. They outlined it, slowly. Passionately. Did you forget? I could never.
Your lips on mine. How it sounded when you told me you loved me for the first time. The smile on my face after our first date and exhale of relief because my soul had found the one it had been searching for.
What happened to us?
What happened to those nights that mirrored a movie? The nights we held each other so closely.
How did we let the anger creep in? How did misery find us?
I thought we built a fence of love so pure and real—high enough that nothing could get in. It slipped through the cracks, didn’t it?
You look at me with disgust. With regret. We’ve both changed, and I can’t say it’s for the better.
Do you like what you’ve turned into? Do you have a heart anymore? Has it turned black? Is there any more life left in that shell of a human? I’m afraid I will never get to find you again. This isn’t you.
This isn’t the soul my soul clung to.
I like to think the ones from 2013 who said their vows to one another and to God are off somewhere together, hand in hand. I hope they never find out what we’ve become.
Please come back. Please love again.
If I could breathe life into your cold body, I would. If I could just light a spark, I know it would take off like a forest fire.
You were my miracle, and now I need one.