Halfway There

When we talk,
disconnect dangles on the end of every word.
The conversations aren’t forced, 
but they are definitely fleeting, 
and pierced with potential that will never be fulfilled.

When I think of you, my visions are skewed. 
My memories used to play cinematically,
and I would fixate on that imagery as if my life depended on it. 

Now, they’re bits and pieces of scenes I vaguely recall being in.
Flashbacks of us kissing are interrupted by the arguing,
and it’s not long before the tears take center stage.

You were what I wanted,
but you were rarely what I needed. 
I tried to bury your flaws underneath the moments
where we stood a fighting chance. 

These days I’m growing closer to the version of me
that does just fine without you. 
When you look at my Instagram,
I wonder what goes through your head.

I’ve forgotten what you smell like,
and I’ve become foreign to your touch. 
How beautiful it is to know,
I can’t hold on to what I can’t feel.

My love for you stretches to the end of time,
but I don’t like you, not one bit.
You treat me like I’m unworthy of respect,
but loathe the idea of us becoming total strangers. 
Yet even with our history,
we’re already halfway there. 

written December 30, 2019.

Do The Right Thing

I wasn’t thinking about you 
until you reached out to me.
Our last conversation took me to a place 
I didn’t think I’d go.  

You were the first man I had an authentic connection with.
You checked all of the boxes. 
You were a walking, talking dream. 

Out of all of the memories that come to mind,
there is one that stings the most. 
It has nothing to do with me;
it was the moment I realized you had proposed 
to her. 

I remember looking at that picture of you on bended knee,
followed by the one of you holding her as she cried onto your chest,
and I wanted to know:

Were you really happy?
Were you really sure?
Did she make you feel the ways that I did?

If you moving on affected me to this degree,
surely you must’ve thought about me along the way. 
I was floored when only a few weeks after,
I discovered that you did; that you do.

You know I’m sorry. 
You know I’m here for you, always.
You’re unhappy, but you don’t want to hurt her. 
There are variables you have to consider
that would never cross my mind, because they don’t need to.

I never told you that you were the first man I could see myself with.
We fit in a way that was more than I could fathom.
I never told you because I wasn’t ready to do anything about it.
I never told you because I was careless, and selfish, and cold. 

I don’t want to turn back the hands of time;
there is no need to. 
I don’t live with regret.
I don’t compete with fate.

I may wonder, or fantasize, or reminisce,
but I acknowledge the barrier between us. 
I set boundaries, but do they really matter?
Because like you said the other day:
Attraction + chemistry + history is a dangerous thing. 

I don’t know her, but I respect her,
and I want what’s best for you, even if it doesn’t feel good.
I understand that means I may never see you again. 
I understand that means there are a lot of talks we will never get to have.
I know you have questions you are withholding from me,
but I suppose it’s better that way. 

Out of sight isn’t out mind.
Out of sight doesn’t make your marriage stronger, either.
But I will stay here, and you will remain there. 
It’s not about desire anymore.
It’s about doing what’s right. 

written October 1, 2019.

From Your Former Babygirl

It’s remarkable how often my thoughts jump through hula hoops.
One day I’m reminiscing and wondering what could’ve been,
and the next day, you’re barely on my mind.

I realized that I miss you,
but not in the way that you might think.
It’s the familiarity of having you in my life that I mourn 
as opposed to your presence,
because you could be sitting right beside me,
and still be somewhere else.  

It is weird yet relieving to know that this is the end.
It took years to arrive to the point where I feel comfortable not being able to text, call, or see you.
When something happens worth mentioning,
it stings knowing that I can’t share it,
but fortunately the feeling is fleeting.

I know in my heart that if you remained in my life, 
it would be because my love for you was tied to instant gratification,
not because you were meant to be a permanent fixture. 

When I said I believe that you loved and cared for me
to the best of your ability, I meant it.
Just because we emote in different ways, doesn’t mean your feelings are invalid.
A large part of loving unconditionally, is being able to let go when you know it’s for the best.
So I want you to know that not only do I want what’s best for me,
I will always wish the best for you. 

The last time I wrote something along these lines,
I referred to myself as your “Babygirl” forever.
Things have changed since then.
That’s not who I am anymore, and I couldn’t stay her even if I tried.
Because one day, another man is going to call me all of the things you called me and then some, and one of them is “wife.” 

Loving you while being hurt by you,
has verified that just because people are seasonal,
doesn’t mean that they can’t serve as your mirror.
I often harped on your flaws,
but dealing with them also allowed me to see more of mine. 

So thank you, again:
For teaching me lessons through all that you did and all that you didn’t,
for leaving me with some pretty sweet memories,
and for being honest with me, no matter how much it hurt.
I hope you cherish our time together just as much as I do, but more importantly,
I hope that down the line, you choose the opposite of empty. 

written June 17, 2019.

The Ending

I lay beside your memory at night,
which is why it’s so hard for me to get up in the morning. 
I think of all the times I slept in your bed,
and wonder if you ever think of me when no one is there to hog the covers.

God, I hate this part the most. 
You’re everywhere, in everything. 
I don’t want to press “pause”
because the pain just needs to stop altogether.

I’m disgusted that our ending 
has me questioning if what we had was even real.
Were our feelings truly the same,
or did you love me like those other guys that call themselves men?

You’re not worried about me;
you can’t be.
You’re unscathed, and that’s okay. 

It is through this tragedy,
that I am able to birth the beautifully crafted story 
of how you destroyed me from the inside out,
and stomped my soul into smithereens.

written February 3, 2017.