Lover's Visa
Some connections are only written in time itself, a seasonal hello turned into a longing for a hello again. Then they say goodbye, and “maybe I will see you again”.
He felt similar to a warmth under covers during chill mornings, a deep sleep, a sigh filled with misty unsaid words, and something savory and sweet at the end of the night. Now, nothing feels like home, and being the odd one out becomes a habit like before. Lonely in my silence, there is not much to say or do, my body aches in pain as he reaches across the ocean to his destination, and life continues like the last many Decembers - no surprise, everything all the same. Tears only come at midnight and then it's the day yet all over again.
He is loved the same way as before, only from far away. I tasted what love would be if we loved at the right time. Anguish and madness dance in my heart as time takes my pain away, my own created mental anguish. Only I can bear this or deflect it, and this is why I asked him to leave before I spoil his life. The inevitable truth of lovers loving too much from a distance, haunted by their pasts, seeing too much and knowing there are broken hearts and pieces that belong neither here nor there.
Lovers should have special visas, I say, where their story is told to the lovers on border patrol who feel their love and give them a chance at being together, allowing entrance. After all, isn't love the most powerful of them all? We spend time fighting and separating families. If only in my perfect world, true love conquers all, and we support that love by giving these lovers a home to flourish and a place to start afresh.
A chance.
I've loved you the most out of all my lovers. Not because you were my last, but because you made me finally start from home. I now see my journey, and though we walk on parallel roads, our fork curves might be unique, but we end up at the same place at the same time. And all the days finally come, here with you, a gift of presence and memory wrapped up in a bag of chips, coffee and cigarette breath, whisky clinks, fingers tangled up.
I needed what you couldn't give me. Grief born from what was never said, there in our sighs and silences, in our breath in arithmetic balance. There is much being said in our silence.
"What is it then?" He said.
"I think you should go." It's what She said, because it's all She had.
Maps of reconnection. A moment held in silence with them, and all the puzzle pieces of the story I expected in my head come clear and make their own sense. As though I was a fool all along to simply predict what could have been the true story. Yet again my brain knitted another web of cuddles with a new lover so I may be trapped in the softness and still gracious in my defeat.
You stupid fucking idiot, it takes strength to be gentle and kind, and I have used it all up for kinds like you. You fool. I'm the tried and failed fool.
All the love in this world is free, my love. All the hate is a sellout.
Unexplained laughter spoke many languages of our unique tongues and formed our own opinions, and like friends with free speech, we spoke our debates and navigated our rubrics and joined the party. You're my type of person, coated like me. I enjoy the waves. Stability is boring and chaos is amusing, has grief and makes life into a journey worth feeling.
I hesitated, and we fell apart as soon as I heard the words, your love was not a sure thing. I know now why I fell apart. A long list of things grew longer, and I spent my days apart and kept you out of my eyes, our love's desire.
I'm the remake of Terminator, took all that we had, left nothing except for this rust. Broke all the ones who made you lose your face and tried to make me flee.
A young mom quietly mourning a lost love, as my little boy starts to say he doesn't need me in small tasks, my lover does not need me in his larger ones.
It's a type of two-sided coin, pragmatic reality not belonging here nor there, yet no lesson learned through me or you. Our love is in paradise, no chance of coming back empty handed. I adore him, still in this moment and on. Even with oceans apart I adore him, and will continue to as I feel the first feeling of summer breeze to the winter chill. For when you left with sorrow, with our last kiss, we were not what we said, and it's alright, my love. No right or bright side of envy, only silly old me.
I will wait on the dark side, making the best of our distance, and of my lips to show you the truth, this pretty smile and belly laugh. I'm probably the loudest woman in my hometown when you're around.