He was never a man of words, he was a man of touch

Love was something you watched for in his movements, his politeness

….in a look….the way he held your face after you cried because it rarely happened…even then

I am both a giver of words and lover of touch….I love in both and sometimes the more love I feel, the fewer words I have…

I loved him naked in the kitchen trying to eat a poorly cooked brownie of hockey puck texture….I laughed because I loved

Smelling all my body lotions when he thought I wasn’t looking

The way my cheeks would redden ….a fever, a fire for him

You don’t always know you are with the love of your life when you are with him

You were living 3 lives, disconnected from one another….him, your rape from the guy before him with the same name and the depression you know you had but were afraid to admit. He was living at least 2 of his own.

Even then I was an empath. His body moved a certain way, a different look that lasted only a second and I knew….I told him I knew something was off

He showed up later that night….I was now and she was then. Then came back and wanted my now, he didn’t know what to do but he couldn’t be with me if then was here.

Yet he insisted on taking you to one last dinner. You don’t know why you accept. You know it’s going to be grueling to sit across from those eyes, that dimpled chin you are no longer allowed to touch. And where is she?

You put on your burgundy velvet dress because it hits the right curves in the right places, covers everything but the cleavage….make him acknowledge what he’s missing

So much emotion, you see the love. You feel the love but you aren’t allowed to keep it. You still don’t know he’s the love of your life….even then

…..but he is.

He advances to touch you….you actually vomit from the upset, the stress, the loss of a love you know you are looking straight into. It’s not like it’s not there. She fucking confused him even though she wasn’t at all confused when she left him. But now that you are there, she wants to come back and she wins. She won several times, actually….even now.

You do this for 3 more years. Alternating between me and her and a few others thrown in. You vomit a few more times he touches you along the way. You make him walk the dog because you can’t get off the floor. You humiliate yourself for him. You love him. You are the one who understands every point, every piece. He crashes into your body because yours is the one that’s home to him. He could never hide that. Yours is the one who really hears him, sees him for the complicated, nasty mess he is. You are the one he never had to hide himself from.

He was the love of your life but you didn’t know it then. You didn’t know who you were then. He thought he knew you but he didn’t really….I was compartmentalizing myself even then. You see what I let you see because I am stronger than you. That part he knew and that’s where he found home so many times he lost his compass

All these years later, the love has morphed to something different. He’s your compass now and he knows you better than you know yourself. He has words now….not many but enough to keep you breathing.

You don’t know when the love of your life became one of your closest friends or when you started looking for another love of your life….if there even is one. But he’s steering you through it just enough to remind you of where you might find home when you are lost. And you get lost a lot more often now than he ever did.