I think the most excruciating fear, is the fear and acceptance that I would one day have to marry someone else. I would have to fall in love with a face that is not yours, confide in arms that are not yours, wait for the response of a voice that doesn’t belong to you, and connect with a heart that doesn’t beat like yours.
It’s the fear that dinner won’t be with you across the table. That my free time won’t have you already there waiting for me to decide on what we should do. That my bad days won’t have you to say how “bogus” or “messed up” that was to have happened to me. And my good days won’t have you laughing at how “silly” and “such a dork” I am.
Losing you is the fear that my happy place gets dismantled. It no longer looks, smells, and feels like you.
It’s the fear that you will never leave the back of my mind when I am trying to set myself free and live a life happily because I couldn’t be with you.
Losing you is the heartache of questions I ask when I want to know why we are here now, why did I have to leave, why did you have to leave, and why you couldn’t just love me. Why can’t we just love, and why on earth can’t we just be.
Losing you, makes me never want to breathe again. It makes me afraid to smile and laugh again. Because I never know if I will sound and look the same.
Losing you is the most excruciating torture of all the things we could’ve been but will never be.
Losing you cups a little prayer in my hands, that one day in better times, it’d be you, well knowing that this time I know, I really am losing you.
All the words you said and wouldn’t say replayed, and all of them, told me: I lost you.