Love is in the details

It hurt. This impulse that I had to memorize every little detail I could about you in that stolen hour. Because you made it clear the moment I sat down–you didn’t want a repeat.

I felt your eyes on me buoyed by the silence, taking me all in–memorizing every inch of skin, the gossamer chain resting on my neck, the navy pinstripes of my dress, and when I finally felt safe to look, your wave ebbed and it was my turn to flow all over you. I remember the color you wore–something I never would’ve thought you’d choose. But then I was relying on what I knew of you before. It didn’t matter–that day you were a stranger, yet so dear to me at the same time. I wanted hours to know you all over again and more.


I’ve never been more conscious of eating and using cutlery before–never counted every bite and chew, or contemplated swallowing. Every second was precious, and yet, wasted.


I found my footing at the details that never changed–the way your lips would curl when you’re trying to keep laughter from coming out, but it still spills, anyway. And the way you’d turn your head when you couldn’t look at me anymore–I could feel your blush, and I’ve always found that so cute and endearing. It’s so you.

There are just some things you can’t keep hidden no matter how hard you try. Even the ones you’ve buried for over a decade. Secrets you hold sacred and close to your heart. Parts of you that nobody else knows. Not because they would expose the real you, but because their light blinds you and you’re scared of what could happen when they’re all out in the open.


I keep thinking of your hands–slim fingers connecting to slim wrists and how they would feel interlaced with mine. I remember the warmth, the certainty, as they rested on my back in that unexpected but welcome embrace. It felt like home.


I was holding out for something–a parting touch, an embrace. I was yearning for it, was sure enough to expect it. But you already turned away from me, and as I waited for my ride home, I couldn’t keep the tears anymore and I couldn’t even tell anyone why. I’ve just been witness to my first real heartbreak.


I learned to let go because denial does not define you and how I feel for you. It’s not the last thing I want to remember you by. It’s not something I regret. Because I discovered that love is not all about the other person, not about getting what you want the way you want it and when you want it. That’s ego steering the wheel. Love is being and accepting. It’s accepting who you are at the moment, who the other is at that moment, living in your authenticity and expressing your love however you can.

And I did just that. I drank from the cup until only the dregs were left and I let it refine me–into someone with an inner strength and light I never thought was in me all along.


I still think of you and I still feel our love. It’s a part of me already–one of the best bits.

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