Updated: Jul 28
I remember you looking at me from across a candle lit table, as though I was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Your eyes were radiant, not just from the flame between us, but a glow, similar to the moon’s, when you listened to me speak about my dreams.
I remember long dinners with personal exchanges, the kind of conversation that opens buried memories, unspoken of longings and fears not yet recognized. You told me you’d never spoken to someone so openly before and I felt rare for being the person you were yourself with.
I remember nights undressing before you, your hands on my face, then running through the dusk of my hair, slowly unzipping garments dropped to the floor, and I’d feel both whole and vulnerable, waiting for you to show me how you love in the dark.
I remember the first time you told me you loved me. We were in the city, and you didn’t mean for it to come out so suddenly, and when it did, your cheeks blushed and nervous laughter filled the silence, until I told you I loved you too.
I remember long drives where you’d grab my hand, look over and smile. You’d sing the lyrics to a new band you were excited about, and I’d watch as I was filled with a warmth I’d never felt before.
I can’t remember when the thread between us started thinning, when we stopped noticing each other. I can’t recall the exact moment when our light began to dim. I wish I knew what caused a love like ours to burn and exhaust itself.
Sometimes I wonder if I could just go back to the day, the hour, the second, we didn’t recognize ourselves in each other anymore - if only I could make you see me the way you did during our first night together, then maybe our story would be different.
What do you do when a journey hasn’t reached its peak?
What happens when instead of looking toward the future, your mind is held stagnant in the past?
What would you say if I were to return to you? Arms open, eyes light and awake, ready to try again?
Would you feel the same if I told you that most days I dream of a love that comes merely as close to ours, but worry I may never find it?
If only we could return to the nights when we saw each other in a crowded room. If only we could remember what kept us close. If only you could see yourself in me again.