Nothing’s As Bittersweet As An Almost
For a fleeting moment, I got a glimpse of what it was like to feel the gentleness and care behind a man’s touch. I never had that before him. It was here and gone too fast, and Lord, it hurts.
I keep trying to tell myself that it’s just the idea of him I was heels over head for, but I’d just be lying to myself. It was everything.
How his hand fit into mine and he’d stroke his thumb over my fingers.
How he’d run his fingers through my hair.
How he consoled me when I had night terrors and said, “Hey, it’s alright. I got you.”
How he would whisper sweet nothings to me and sometimes get frustrated when he would have to repeat it because I’m deaf.
How he helped me learn to love myself again.
How he helped me to see my worth.
How he always built me up.
How he knew when, what, and how to say it—whatever it was.
How he managed to pull me outta the dumps.
How he’d stare at me and smile before he shook his head.
How he’d sit between my legs while playing games or watching a movie and would almost fall asleep with me running my fingers through his hair.
How he’d usually only roll over when he thought I was asleep.
How he’d fall asleep with his arms around me.
How his snoring didn’t sound like a chopper landing.
How he smelt.
How he felt.
How he was.
How he was himself.
And so many more.
I wish I could rewind and do it all over again. Because I would. In a heartbeat. There was something about him that I adored so much but I could never figure out why till now. I feel like a crazy person and I wish I hadn’t.
I met him when I was at my lowest. I guess in a way he saved me, rekindled a fire within that I forgot had even existed at one point. Those little moments we had, I could write about them all the time seeing as they’re permanently etched into my mind. A feeling, a vision, a perception of something so real—so f’ing raw it could bring me to my knees.
I once told him that he was like a drug I couldn’t quit—I was addicted. I constantly craved more and had withdrawals when we were apart too long.
There’s just so many things I could say to him that are honestly probably best kept to oneself. Mainly because he closed the door before I had the chance to put my foot in. And that’s painful. Even though there is definitely a reason for all this. I hadn’t known him for that long at all, but I always felt like I’ve known him forever. And now all I feel I’m left with is an open heart I’m having to sew back together as the memories we’d shared get strewn across like the stars across a clear, deeply pigmented sky.
Funny how bittersweet ‘almost’ is. (Hopefully he doesn’t see this.)