No Words Will Do…

In your sticky leather armchair

Shared by Nathan Lindsay.

I’m not even sure how to talk anymore. I don’t remember if I ever had a voice to use. I think my voice came when we fell in love and left with her the day I watched her drive away into the June sun. Hours spent considering moments that held so much significance for me, seem to mean little to her. The feelings awakened between us were real…for me. I’m not sure what I’d say to her on the off chance that she’d ever speak to me again, other than to prove to her that the capacity for change exists.

There was a time when we both looked upon the other and marveled at our “happy ending”. Through sobriety’s concave gloom her “happy ending” is today held within the arms of someone else. I hope he truly recognizes all the charm and beauty I found in her green eyes. I hope he’s not ignorant of the consecrated territories he has entered. Her passions and fire balanced by the untold truths of her many intricate smiles.

We had everything in common and yet nothing congruent ever apparent. Our connection seemed to survive somewhere between us, as if our destinies entwined to fill the gaps between us. We shared a common thread for living and duty. Our responsibilities defined us and who we were together. Our lives seemed to beg for the company of the other like a honeyed rose to bee.

I feel I’ve always loved her. I have never suffered such lusts nor been so certain about anyone in all my years. No one has ever caused so severe a fever of love as her. No one’s touch has left so defined a mark. Forever scorched with the brand of who she is I will always…

That’s her…

So I hope he knows how valuable and special she truly is. I hope he’s able to respect the work she’s accomplished and what it took for her to achieve those dreams. I hope he recognizes that smile in her green eyes the way I have a thousand times. I hope he knows how fragile she can be and how much simply holding her hand can offer infinite comfort. I hope that he knows how to touch her in just the right ways…with the eager patience of gliding fingertips – I hope he understands the pleasure of anticipation. I hope he remembers to pump her gas and open doors. I hope he understands just how meaningful picking up the check really is. I hope he knows how much a simple “good morning” and “sweet dreams” can translate into a thousand unsaid, intimate gestures. I hope he appreciates the value of family…and that she is family. I hope he shows gratitude for all she does and offers. I hope he makes her laugh and she can look at him in amazement uttering, beneath a sighed breath, “how?”. I hope he owns a lake house. I hope his car is nowhere near as cool as hers. I desperately hope he knows how to satisfy her day with a simple kiss…and how wonderful it is to simply hold her in his arms, in the dark…watching a good long movie. I hope he learns that every deed and token she dispenses comes in coded, meaningful fragments that add up to the sum of her love. I hope he prompts poetry in her heart and realizes the wonders of sharing a day drive as she gazes in wonder at all that’s around her…and him. I hope…he makes her happy in the end. I hope he’s a Raider’s fan…

Her happy ending…not mine.

That’s her…

“Was it ever real?” I ask with hesitance.

“No…”, she replied coolly.

That’s her…always…

Do you love to write? If you have a story, article, post about dating or love, please Share your Heartbeat! We would love you feature your writing.

Thank you!

Advertisements