I shouldn’t be doing this to myself, she thought. Pain and angst, it all made her stomach hurt. But she kept doing it. She kept reading the poems.
“what haunts me more the desolate nights are your memories
the gentle daze in your eyes when you catch mine…”
She remembered reading this for the first time. Feeling adored, loved. He wasn’t physically with her, which is what called for the only poetry she ever received in her life. Beautiful, romantic, loving poetry. That was before it all went sour.
Her eyes swelled with tears. She swallowed. She remembered feeling warm inside, knowing that he was thinking about her, so far away. She had never felt a love so pure, so gut wrenching, so real. He was he first real love of her life. He was it.
“your lips that drive me to a brink and bring me to my knees
the sweet soft aroma that surrounds you like an aura
and your unfailing way of being mine..”
She was his. She was all his. Loving each other so deeply at the beginning and wishing for nights with him never to end. But then it took its turn for the worst, and it was gone. The poetry, the lovingly way he looked at her. His touch, his caress. It was gone. She ached to have it back. She ached to have him back the way it once was; the clean, the pure, the real.
“I miss this perfect physical illusion that makes me eternal
This uncanny love in all its form and beauty”
Who was this man to love her so? How did he know her so well? How did he know to speak to her soul? Her chin quivered when it got to this point. It shook and her eyes shrunk staring at the computer screen. She couldn’t cry. Not now, someone might see her. But inside, she missed that love. She tried to work back to it. Tried to make him love her again, but it was impossible.
And now their distance as big as mountains separated them. The desire, the love, the want, was no longer there. Or was it?
Stop thinking about it, she shook her head. But she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the end because although he had written it almost a year ago, it was exactly what she felt.
“I can scream and cry
Beg and whine
please be mine.
soon be mine.”
How times change in just one year.