There is that one person we can swear our love by. There is always that heartbeat that you could listen to on repeat for your whole life. There is that one human whose existence is the reason for yours. They might be the one you go home to every day, or maybe the one that got away. I have a love like that, they were my bane, my existence, my every next breathe, but they were also the one that ran away. They ran.
Their name was Don. Don was a cocktail of intellect and beauty. We spent hours talking about Philosophy, Religion, love, music, our dreams, Their hair and pain in equal measure. The beauty of her light skin and baby soft hair was a bonus. When Don smiled, my world lit up. We had very few hours together really, but I remember every minute of it, all the places their body would meet mine, there still is a simmering sensation. Every morning text is engraved in my mind, every echo of their laughter haunts my house. There was no moment in the 12+ months we were together when I felt the ground beneath my feet. For them, I was always falling, always deeper in love.
But when our time was up, they ran. First because I was selfish. I would gush out my love and forget to listen for their answer. They weren't happy. I took a beautiful soul and trapped in in a beautiful cage and called it love. I bound my brokenness to theirs and I recreated the scars that were already there. so they ran. I played our relationship on mute, focusing on the conversation rather than the words, the action of touching rather than the holiness of making love. I was ready to give my life for them rather than help them find meaning for theirs. So they ran. I found them, and I promised not to ask them to fall again.
Now they are the reminder of a confession I make over and over again. I should have loved them better. I should have. They are that love that in another time and life, is your soulmate. Every love song sounds like a symphony written for them, every sad song is a piece of their souls where your darkness burnt them, every happy song is what their lives are without you. We all have this one person we think about when we write or read pieces like these. I hope they are a phone call away for you, and that the next person that has a chance to kiss the heart pulse tattoo on Don's arm does it with a lot of love. My first apology is that i have gendered Don correctly for the first time.
Their name was Don. Don was a cocktail of intellect and beauty. We spent hours talking about Philosophy, Religion, love, music, our dreams, Their hair and pain in equal measure. The beauty of her light skin and baby soft hair was a bonus. When Don smiled, my world lit up. We had very few hours together really, but I remember every minute of it, all the places their body would meet mine, there still is a simmering sensation. Every morning text is engraved in my mind, every echo of their laughter haunts my house. There was no moment in the 12+ months we were together when I felt the ground beneath my feet. For them, I was always falling, always deeper in love.
But when our time was up, they ran. First because I was selfish. I would gush out my love and forget to listen for their answer. They weren't happy. I took a beautiful soul and trapped in in a beautiful cage and called it love. I bound my brokenness to theirs and I recreated the scars that were already there. so they ran. I played our relationship on mute, focusing on the conversation rather than the words, the action of touching rather than the holiness of making love. I was ready to give my life for them rather than help them find meaning for theirs. So they ran. I found them, and I promised not to ask them to fall again.
Now they are the reminder of a confession I make over and over again. I should have loved them better. I should have. They are that love that in another time and life, is your soulmate. Every love song sounds like a symphony written for them, every sad song is a piece of their souls where your darkness burnt them, every happy song is what their lives are without you. We all have this one person we think about when we write or read pieces like these. I hope they are a phone call away for you, and that the next person that has a chance to kiss the heart pulse tattoo on Don's arm does it with a lot of love. My first apology is that i have gendered Don correctly for the first time.
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