He is my world.
Was. He was my world.
I loved him; he was my first love.
It all began for the wrong reasons.
It began when I saw a cute boy.
He was smart, and witty, and boy was he full of himself.
But I loved it, and I loved how he didn’t care.
Well, he didn’t care what others thought of him.
He did care about others; he's the type to take care of a friend.
The type that could miss a call from an old love interest.
It could be a call at midnight, and he would call back.
He would make sure she was okay.
Surely a call this late means she’s in trouble.
So surely he has to check on her.
On a girl who was drunk on love.
Love that was pouring out from a crack in her heart.
Love that belonged to him.
She took a chalice and caught some of the love.
The poor thing tried to give it to another.
Little did she know it would slowly ruin this new lover.
It would addict the new lover to a perfect poison that belonged to the first.
Yes, I loved my cocky and caring boy.
However, he liked me first, and I did not accept the liking.
I wanted his companionship, without giving up any piece of myself.
No not physically, but in this twisted emotional way called love.
Love comes when liking takes a liking to your now lover.
I wanted to stay friends.
He wasn’t in the deep, and neither was I.
We could live without each other, and for a while we did.
The communication slowed as we went our different ways.
I never forgot about him.
I remembered him as the months passed.
Once in a while I tried to reach him, bur for some reason he was gone.
I had a lover; he had a lover.
I missed him, but I had no idea how he felt.
I assumed he was happy.
The day came that I left my lover.
Months passed and he left his lover.
He apologized, and told me of his past lover.
I didn’t say much on my past lover.
They didn’t mean much to me.
I was just looking for someone to love.
When he spoke of her I thought nothing of it.
Then, as time passed, he spoke of me.
I was not looking for a lover, nor love.
Yet, I found it.
I saw it in his face of frustration with the word.
I heard it in the spiral of swear words he naturally spoke.
I touched it when my hand when to my chest as he made me laugh.
It happened so sudden, and lasted so long.
The flirting was fun, and the toying and teasing turned my frowns into smiles.
He was very good at making me smile.
He was scary good at making me smile, but I wasn't scared.
He had told me so long ago he liked me and I rejected him.
I was safe. I had control. I would not be hurt.
But I felt bad for hurting him long ago.
Months went by until I could take it no more.
I confessed a liking for him.
Of course it was more, but I wouldn’t let him know.
Not in that moment.
He said… It was okay.
He said he use to like me too.
He asked if I remembered.
Of course I did. How could I forget?
Especially at a moment like this… when he used the words ‘use to.’
Somehow the conversation carried on.
We continued to talk for a few more days.
Then I was the only one talking.
I was alone, without him.
He left.
He left me.
He was gone.
He wasn't mine.
He was somewhere else.
I was alone.
You see, if you’re alone with a broken heart, then you're not really alone.
You feel lonely, but you’re not alone.
Because he is there.
He’s in the back of your mind.
He’s in the depths of your heart.
He’s the gust of wind on your arm that you mistake for a touch.
His cologne is suddenly everywhere.
He is suddenly everywhere.
At least that’s how it was for me.
Dealing with his presence has gotten easier.
I’ve learned to be with another, but I’ve never stopped loving him.
He went back to the lover he use to talk of.
She hurt him, and I wanted to hurt her for both taking and hurting him.
He came to me to talk about it.
Then left again to go back to her.
We’re just friends now.
We barely talk now.
It doesn’t stop me from reaching out to hold him.
He doesn’t feel it.
He doesn’t feel that way for me.
I’m dating a friend of his with his full approval.
Or so he says.
Deep down I want him to come to me.
I want him to tell me he lied.
I want him to say he thought he missed his chance.
I want him to tell me he gave me to his friend so he would know.
Know that I was taken care of.
I want him to tell me he cares.
I want to hear that at night he thinks of me.
God please, let me hear him say he thinks of me too.
That he feels lonely but I am always with him.
Just like he is always with me.
God tell me that he was made for me and I for him.
Tell me he loves me.
Tell me I have not wasted my emotions on a boy who has none for me.
Tell me he offers his emotions to me when me when he lay awake.
When he is in the arms of another with his eyes close tell me…
tell me that he feels me.
Tell me, because I cannot tell him.