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The Lover I Never Had to Love 1/19/2005 10:27:57 PM
Here we are, both growing old. It's hard to remember that time. When you were still 25 and I was still struggling to break out of my infantile state. The little joys that used to burst upon me like orgasms of the heart over insignificant things. You brought me dinner unsolicited. The kiss in the kitchen that was the most giving thing you ever did. (Even though, in retrospect, I almost think you did it to see if there was anything... anything at all... for you to hold onto. So you'd know that breaking my heart was the right thing to do.) I really never thought I'd be sitting here... writing about you again. It's not like it was before, don't fret. I'm not sitting in the middle of an empty room on the blankets and carpet I called a bed, swigging a bottle of cheap whine and writing in teasingly suicidal strains that we all knew were bullshit. No... this is not like that. Not at all.
Now you're older. The things I so enjoyed loving about you and with you are now too childish for you. What was it you said? You've outgrown it. Most likely we've outgrown each other. I held onto this paradise lost for so long. To the memory of that night in your grandmother's house that was truly like nothing else that had ever happened in my life, as simple as it may have seemed to you. That night is like a dream now. I almost don't believe it ever happened. Now you're older. I still think about you everyday. But these days those thoughts are mostly just faint ruminations on the thinning line of communication between us. Now.. you're just older. It's as if your soul has faded and you've become so much someone you weren't at 25.... I don't think I even know you anymore. I don't even know why I'm doing this. Writing to you as if you're listening. As if you were ever listening. I'm not going to be vague anymore, Coy. I'm not going to leave out the juicy bits for the sake of omission alone. I certainly don't love you anymore. Maybe I never really did. Truth be told... I'm not even writing this to you. This is a letter to the past. I once said that you were the one who abandoned me in such a way that I would feel it every single day for the rest of my life. More bullshit. The past itself abandons me over and over again with each day that passes. It's the one thing I long for, the one thing I hate, the one thing I grieve over, the one thing I'd give anything to get back and anything to let go. You could never touch that, Coy. I hope it didn't hurt too terribly bad when you fell from your throne.
