It's been six weeks since I saw you last. Six weeks since I held your hand, kissed your lips, tasted your breath. Six weeks since you told me you loved me and I told you you were a fool. Six weeks since I destroyed the only real thing in my life.
You watched me from across the room when you spoke to men in suits and women dressed in couture. Your eyes never left me. When you sipped your wine, your lips curled into a smile. My legs would tremble when you looked up at me from behind the glass.
How is it that just a look from you can break my heart? The walls I build around myself come crashing down when your eyes bore into my soul, exposing my deepest secrets, making me raw. I bleed from your gaze but I can't look away.
That night you brightened the room, warming everything around you. I ran out of defenses and excuses. All I saw was you.
You looked away from me and back to the crowd gathered close. You spoke animatedly, excited about your cause, your project, your work. You believed in what you do and I was so proud of you, proud to be the woman on your arm when you arrived, the one you would go home with. I watched as the wrinkles next to your eyes appeared when you smiled and laughed unabashedly. I watched as you adjusted the sleeves of your tux when you were uncomfortable, tired of the attention.
The night was electrifying, the people interesting; the feel of your hand against my back as we danced was overwhelming. The simplest touch from you and I melted into the perfection of what we could have, what we could be, and I wanted it to last forever. All I had to do was stay.
Beautiful women stood arm in arm with perfect men. Each princess escorted home by her prince. When the evening turned to night, and night into early morning, you guided me home, your hand on the small of my back. Your tie was undone and the scruff of your beard betrayed the late hour. Your eyes were puffy from wine and fatigue, but the fire in your eyes never dimmed when you looked at me.
Morning came too soon. My dress lay across the upholstered chair in your room, neatly folded over the back. Your thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze me. Even in passion you thought about me, took care of me. The tiniest gestures showing how you felt. The kind of man you are is exactly the kind of man I never deserved.
We woke, bodies entangled, warmth radiating from our hearts. You kissed my forehead before whispering into my hair.
Don't go.
I can't take it anymore.
Don't leave again.
I insisted that I had to. That things were complicated. That I needed to figure out how to leave him.
Please.
Your voice broke. It was the last word I heard you speak before you exhaled a shaky breath and I knew I was breaking your heart again.
Please.
If there were words I could take back from the entire fucked up history of my life, it would be the ones I spoke next. If there was a moment I could relive it would be that morning lying in your bed. I would kiss you, morning breath and all. I would pull you to me and tell you how I can't sleep when I'm not with you, how I can't breathe when I can't see you. I should have said that and so much more. I should have jumped, you would have caught me.
"No," is what I said instead.
I love you
"It's not enough."
You yelled. You cried. You left and didn't return to take me to the airport. You didn't kiss me goodbye at the gate or watch my plane leave. You didn't text me while I was in the air. You didn't call to make sure I landed safely.
