I used to wonder if we were destined to fail from the start, two people who lived hard and loved fast. Afraid to slow down. But now I know that my fingers weren’t long enough to reach your wounds, to caress the places that ached from the sharp words and careless actions of others. People had confused your gentleness for weakness. You carried everything heavy. Had I known, I would have danced delicate language all around you. I would’ve told you that your internal brightness illuminated mine. And that I only saw the beauty in myself when I looked at my reflection in your eyes. If only I had known that behind that strong gaze was everything else. Everything you didn’t want me to know. Your shine came from what you felt when you looked at me. And you feared that I would be yet another to use your light and leave you alone. In even more darkness. But I wouldn’t have. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I know that pain too.
Mistakes we make in the past sometimes keep us connected. Heartache keeps us connected. We want the past to be forgotten, to forget the people we’ve hurt and those who have hurt us and yet, it’s always there, in the periphery of our consciousness, because it has defined part of our life. A part of who we are.
We ran our brokenness against each other, in pure abandon. I knew you weren’t in it for the long run. I could feel it in the yearning of our bodies, the way our skin merged with desperation over and over, the way we held on too tight. I knew you weren’t the answer to my loneliness or the cure for all that ailed me, but you changed my life. You helped me realize that I could love again. And for that I am thankful. So thankful.
Know that love would stick no matter how hard you are to break into, know that love would stick no matter how protective you have become of your own self. Love would find its way like nothing ever has.