oldie, but goodie

 

We destroyed each other in the most beautiful way possible. I gave you all of me; mind, body, and scheme. Together we were a whirlwind of complete chaos and intense passion rivaling those of a screenplay; romantic comedies didn’t have shit on us.

Almost as quickly as it started, we were falling. Much like that one guy, Shakespeare, said of love, “…slowly and then all at once.” Fast, ferocious, and then, fleeting.You were you, and I was I; it’s my only explanation.

I am a natural born runner, not in the conventional way. But in the sad and tragic way found most often in novels. Almost as if I enjoy the game of cat and mouse. I let you get close, and then within an instant I was gone. Only to reappear again, starving for more. You, with your hot body and wicked smile… You were quicksand. I didn’t stand a chance. Always pulling me back in. The feeling of your hands on the small of my back or how good you always smelled… Though it reads like a cheesy romance novel, it was OUR novel and one I never fully wanted to put down.

True to form, I ruined it. I will feel that sting forever; the solid drop in my stomach when I said, “no” on that day in your childhood room. We were surrounded by K’Nex coasters in glass cases, and sailboats (decorating done by none other than your beautiful mother). We lay tangled in cozy sheets and limbs. I can still feel the intensity in your dark eyes during that conversation. You read me like a book that day. Much like every day. I could never hide things from you. Not completely at least.

Even still, we continued our charade. We each pretended to be dark, cold, and twisted. Gone were afternoon naps of cuddling and sharing out hopes and dreams. It became a game of who can pretend to care less. I don’t believe either on of us won in the end. And that is heartbreaking. It is heartbreaking that it became such a competition that we lost sight of each other, in attempt to save ourselves from what could have been. Our non-committal game ripped us apart almost poetically. In that tragic sort of way.

So many of my memories are linked to you. Some good, some bad, some I remember fondly, and others that I don’t at all. That first night with you, is one I hold dearly. But not as dearly as the morning after. The morning where I shared secrets with you and instead of leaving, you only held me tighter, closer. We had moments of pure, raw, real life together. And it is those moments that I miss.

Coulda, woulda, shoulda. If there is one thing I’ve learned, a fairytale without magic is just a story. I don’t believe we were just that, just a story. I believe we were a fairy tale full of magic and love and learning.

 

 

 

Images found on Pinterest. Author does NOT own images. Pinterest search: surreal photography.

Post originally written for ThoughtCatalog

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