Even Though You’re Still Here, I Know That You’ve Gone
I’ve lost you. Not completely. Not yet.
But it’s in the moments I never used to question. So slowly. Silently. I’m losing you.
How is it that a touch can change? You’re drifting while laying right beside me. That’s how I know a soul exists. Because once mine was intertwined with yours. And now? Now I can’t place where exactly you’re going, but I know it’s not with me.
I can’t hear you anymore. And now, the silence is filled with just that. Silence. No unspoken words. No understood body language.
And suddenly it feels unfamiliar. Why am I here? Consumed with thoughts about you, instead of us.
All senses usually connected. In the micro expressions made when I reveal myself to you.
Open. Free. Loving.
I don’t feel safe. Even though you are here holding me. Listening to me. But can you hear? Or have I escaped you. Moving on a different wave towards a different level. I can sense it. And every part of me, but one, knows what’s coming. So how come that one part can cloud the whole scene. I stay, I still listen, I still love. I still hope… with my heart.
Where’d you go?
By now I’m looking at a stranger. Once so aligned, now missing every mark I throw your way. Almost on purpose. I lost you in phases. In tiny pieces. You tried. Tried to be here. Tried to give me what I deserved. I felt it first in the way you looked at me. And then in your tone. Slowly seeping out through your hands on my body. I ache for more.
I see glimpses of you. Which make me think it’s not too late. Maybe you haven’t gone. But what I had yet to realise is we are in pieces. All fitting together to make a whole. Different parts of us. Of our spirit. I’ve lost you many times over. Putting you back together through my desire. Through my hope. But now most of you lies with you and not me.
There’s a part of you still with me. And maybe there always will be. But the part of you I’ve kept, you have replaced within yourself, which makes you no longer mine. It’s a silly concept to begin with. Maybe you were never “mine”. You faded away in front of me. Unsure of where you’ve went, I wonder…
Have my pieces been drifting all along?
It’s hard to see when you’re the one changing. There’s a conflict. Between my impulse to stay close to you and my need to change. I still crave you. But I crave me more.
No one’s to blame here. Which means I blame it all. You. Me. Us. And you’ll keep a part of me too. A part I am happy to give to you, for she is no longer me. I love you. And I still love us.
We are just no longer them.