Unrequited Love

Hmmm....which one of us haven't been here at one point or another? I wrote this based on a certain someone - who if he ever reads this will probably recognize himself.... I just got up one morning thinking, and this is what came out.

Out of sight out of Mind...

I love him.

I got my clarity. And I fell harder than before. Essentially, nothing happened. Except – we communicated. Honestly. Finally. And though I was not surprised by the revelations, it solidified the futility of pretending this was more than it was. It is what it is. Out of sight out of mind.

He talked. I incoherently responded. Too tired to clearly verbalize my thoughts. I listened.

Stopped assuming. Stopped pretending. Just listened. And agonized inside. Why God? Why? Why are these disclosures reeling me closer?

I controlled myself. And regretted my resolve. I wanted to give and take. Caress and kiss. But I didn’t. Just lay there. Arm splayed over his chest. Head resting below his chin. Lay there. Feeling his body and trying hard not to move. Instinctively wanting more. But I didn’t.

Later – sleeping. Together. Or at least I tried. Spooning. Him behind me. Cuddling. Futilely providing each other with a remnant of physical intimacy. Leaving me wanting more. Intrinsically craving him. Without satisfaction.

We drove to the airport. Listened to music. Talked. He got out. Came in for a kiss. I turned. Offered my cheek and kissed his. He left. I cried. And cried. And cried again. I’m not settling for a piece of him. I want him all. Whole. Everything. But he’s not available. Only deals with what’s in front of him. Out of sight out of mind.

I long to take him up on his offer. Take whatever he’s offering. But – my heart. My heart.

It refuses to come in a late fourth or fifth in his life. Can’t handle the fact that he’s free to do the same with anyone else. That he might. That he probably is.

There I go assuming again. I told him I always assume the worst. Because obviously it’s not the best. I understand. Him, I mean. Understand that seeing each other sporadically – whenever a pink moon reveals itself – is not enough. Not enough for a relationship. Not enough to commit. I understand. But it still hurts like hell. My ego says that if he cared enough – fill in the blank. Ugly truth is – he doesn’t. Doesn’t care enough to pursue anything. Out of sight out of mind.

Convenient. Obviously – that’s what I am. Blindness that emanates from love. Morphing. Bold. Timid. Resilient. Fragile. Content. Yearning.

I love him.

But it doesn’t matter.

And it never did.