Why We Went Down the Drain
I always thought we had everything easy. I wasn't a prize you worked sweat and blood for. I was a mere side step, the already-there, the convenient one you already had the moment you realized you needed to have someone. Since then, there never was a chase.
Maybe because I wanted you to be more of him. I wanted you to quote me poetry, and write me notes like he did. Maybe because I wanted you to show up right at my doorstep whenever something came up. Maybe because I wanted you to see through all my cracks and flaws, all the littlest details -- from how I love for my hands to be held no matter what, to how I prefer hidden personalized post-its than ready made Hallmarks. Maybe because despite all the bold gestures, I still longed for the little things. Of knowing the right noise to my silence. Of knowing my sense of urgency. Of knowing when to come in between my daydreams. Maybe because I wanted you to love me the way he did. Relentless. Incessant. Deep. And after all these years of wanting and wishing to be loved more than you ever could, your strings finally broke.
I was not surprised. I was not surprised at all. I knew it was coming, or at least my instinct knew we were reaching the end. I only prayed that it come sooner before all the hurt could come in, too. Of course, I was distraught to see something I have nurtured for years fall apart, and then can't do anything. It needed a lot of saving, but I didn't see the point of having to do it myself. All those time, you were my prayer. I prayed that even after all the rules I violated in your men's rule book, you'd make a decision that was for us. But you chose yourself. And I knew it was time to go.
A couple months forward and slightly a few moons back, the story pivots. Let me now shift this to you. Yes, you.
Back in your arms, you asked me how I was. I cannot begin to tell how comforting it was to hear you say those words because for the longest time, no one has asked me that. I was thankful you did. And it took three words. Just three words for me to realize that maybe you never left. Right then and there, I wanted to tell you how much I missed the girl who didn't care what others would say as long as she gave it her all; of how much I missed the girl I was when I was with you; and of how much I missed you, too. I wanted to tell you that when I said it terribly hurt me every time I refused another chance of us, I meant it.
I'm sorry to have kept you on the sidelines when you could have deserved the best.
How will I contain encounters, physical and otherwise, with you? Perhaps in bite-sized snippets of sublime after sublime;
in paragraphs, yet they won't be enough
in photographs, however, not too powerful to immortalize
in memories, 95% sober, 5% inebriated, but happy
-- the kind of "happy" I have been perpetually chasing, finally found.
So this is it for laying down all my cards, in black and white.
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