When in love, they ask about the moments of your day.
You never asked.
They want to spend the day through the night with you.
My day revolved around how useful and available I was for your needs.
They never grow tired of wanting to know more about you.
You never asked questions, but you said so many, many words.
They say they missed you.
You only asked if I missed you. I did.
They call during the day to talk.
You once called me at midnight on my birthday and talked about yourself.
They want to see you grow and an individual.
You cut me off, even during conversations with strangers.
They check-in on where you’re going and who you’re going with.
You mumbled (did you even mumble?) and didn’t look up when I said goodbye.
When you call or text them, they answer right away or soon after.
You answered hours later or not at all.
When they say they love you, you know they meant it.
I never knew because you waited until I said it, always.
Your conversations tend to be lively and you take turns talking for hours.
I listened. I was your living journal.
They make time for you.
I waited. I can’t remember a time not waiting.
You drink wine or spirits together.
You drank and called me and I answered. I drank and cried because I knew you would not answer if I was the one who called you.
They are forgiving, always.
I had to learn to take the blame for my feelings for you.
They fill your heart with sudden joy.
My heart felt like glass that had burst to glitter before falling onto a thick carpet.
They may pick you up when you are down.
I had to pick out the glitter heart from the dirty carpet and vacuum up the rest. Vacuumed them up because I knew no other way of picking them out. Those parts stayed in the vacuum bag until one day I threw them out. I could not (would not?) separate out all the pieces to make them whole again.
They may try and carry you somewhere safe while you heal.
You walked away. You didn’t come back. Then the people I thought I loved chose you instead of me.
They might try and try and try to reach you until you are whole again.
I learned that you would never try. That you had never tried before. You did not want to try. You did not want to change into the person I was promised.
They might wait and give you space until you are ready.
I fled in pain to heal until I could watch you do it to another, and then another, from a distance.
They might then remind you that they love you always.
I had to remind myself that you never loved me the way I thought I loved you.
They may then one day touch you so very lightly and say they miss you.
I learned to finally miss the person I had been hiding behind you to become.
You both might look back one day at a photo or a memory and laugh quietly at how much you both had changed.
I peer back at regrets and wasted time while I rush to catch up to my new age.
They may, at times, put your needs above their own.
I learned I could never again be someone’s second thoughts or runaway retreat.
They might then encourage you to climb higher and higher.
You made calls to sabotage my career. I got up and became what you feared and others knew. I had always been better than you, always.
Even through the difficult times you look to them, not away from them, for love.What you did do, the thing that you did, was set my criteria for love. Set it because I had never thought to set it before. And now it is set because I never want to love another like you.