"... And I did not deal with you, I know.
Though the love has always been.
So I search to find an answer there,
So I can truly win."
These are the things I want you to know. These are the things that I could never say because the girl inside me wouldn't let the woman speak.
I loved the way you towered over me. I loved the life echoed in your eyes and the strength in your hands. "I think of your smile; I'm in love with your teeth." I wanted to wrap myself around you forever and ever and that's where I wanted to stay for the rest of my days. I wanted your heart to open up and swallow me and let me minister to all the parts of it that were tired and forsaken. I wanted to be so much a part of you that it felt like I was inside of your ribcage, loving you from the inside out. I wanted all your scars.
I wanted to take the way my mind works and braid it with yours so that they could be knit together instead of seeming aggressors. Believe it or not (you won't), I loved so much how much you think about things. You made me see facets and depths that previously I hadn't thought to observe or explore or investigate or been able to even recognize. I always admired how much you knew about so much; even though it was infinitely more than I knew, it never made me feel small. It made me in constant awe of you and secretly in love with all your synapsed ramblings.
I remember all the good things. I remember all the kind things, the vulnerable things you said, and how quick I was to discard them. It wasn't because I didn't want them. It wasn't because I didn't believe them. That I remember them all these years later is definitive proof of that. I can't even tell you why I dismissed them the way I did. I don't know what kind of woman would do that and I am ashamed of it. If you said those things to me today- if you showed up at my doorstep with a bouquet of all those kindnesses- I would clasp them in my hands and put them in my most beautiful glasses and when they wilted a little over time, I would press them between the pages of my favorite books and I would keep them there forever and I would pass them down to our children so they would know.
I remember all the not so good things, too. I remember how frustrating everything was, how maddening sometimes. I remember feeling empty and discarded. I remember feeling like I wasn't enough of something, though I could never figure out exactly what. I remember feeling resentful toward the other things I wanted that were unrelenting and unaccommodating. I remember pushing it all away because I couldn't brave whatever embracing it meant. And that's why it hasn't dissipated completely after all this time. Because pushing someone away is not the same as letting them go. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could, held my breath, and shoved with all my might, but I never actually let go. And when I finally felt like it was safe to open up my eyes and exhale, I couldn't breathe as deeply anymore.
Can I blame it all on timing? Maybe I hope that eventually we will find the versions of each other that fit together and we'll both be susceptible enough to let the other in without any trepidation or expectation. I am trying so desperately to not let my fears rule me, and mostly because of what it cost me all those years ago. I was so inept with my feelings back then, letting them bleed out in aversions and histrionics instead of granting them the grace of beating in whatever direction they were apt to go.
There are so many apologies I want to make and apologies I want to hear, but it's too late for that now. Just know that I have them nesting here inside me always.
I wanted everything with you. I just didn't know it enough.