Memory Of US
I sat at the couch in my favorite room, reading the unfinished books, and waiting for my life to start. I looked down at the couch, knowing that it holds the memory of US beneath its surface and wanting to relive those moments again. Wanting to burn the same couch where you held me close as we watched movies and shows on my MacBook.
So, the couch holds significance.
The memory of us playing our Nintendo DS, specifically Mario Kart, the moment when I beat you out of nowhere. Yet, you were upset which made me upset—sad even. I stared into your eyes as your face changed for just a second, but that second mattered didn’t it? We lay down together on a couch so small; that it couldn’t hold your long legs—the thickness of your thighs—one of my favorite parts of you, other than your eyes and smile.
The couch remembers are giggles.
I nestled my face in your neck as we watched Arrival, breathing in your cologne, a cologne I very much loved. You teased me when I dug my face there and kept it there for longer than a few minutes. I closed my eyes and took it in. Every moment with you is stained on that gray couch. So, every time I sit on it; I’m remembered of those moments where my smile never faded, hoping that some day you’d open your eyes to the view—paradise, heaven.
The couch held so much promise.
Promise of a future as I felt your nose bury into my hair. I heard you smell the shampoo a couple of times. As if you wanted to ignite it into your memory. These memories—the ones my brain remembers—only solidifies your significance in my life. You may have tucked them aside somewhere deep in the corner of your brain so you won’t feel the never-ending loss of your decision. Creating scenarios in your mind to where you’re right. That I held no importance to your heart, because it’s easier right?
So, the couch holds the warmth of that “love”.
I remembered the moments where I sat beside you as you did your homework and I cuddled next to you—writing a novel I barely completed. The first thing I wanted to do, was call you so I could hear your voice again. To convince myself that you hadn’t left completely. But, you did right? The memories are breathing off that gray couch. My favorite room enlightened by the memory of our breaths. US, being ourselves. I remembered you being my best friend, a best friend I saw myself growing old with.
It wasn’t because I wanted that “childhood sweetheart love story”. It was because I saw you for who you were—a man I wanted to breathe in, to care for. I saw something in you; something I couldn’t explain to others because they’d think I’m insane. However, with every second, minute, hour and as the day turns into night; I still believe in US. Like you once did. I imagined our lives finally taking flight and we are happy. I fell in love with you because I knew you were something special—magical even—resting in my heart and igniting it like wildfire. I felt it more when I heard you play the piano, closing my eyes to the melody flying from your fingertips. You played every song as if you wrote it yourself. Unbelievably breath-taking. No one understands how much I believed in US. How I wanted you to believe in me, how I wanted you to see you were more than just some guy I’ve known since before puberty. But, a person I saw myself grow old with. 40 years from now. Close in each others arms and away from the familiar.
My only fault, was believing you wanted it too—you believed you weren't worthy of that happily-ever-after.
You didn’t see yourself letting go, letting go of the past that hindered you. You couldn’t see past it. But, allowed yourself to be consumed by it. Ending US like I didn’t make you feel. Sweetheart, I saw the way you looked into my eyes, was it a lie? It couldn’t have been, right? Didn’t you feel my touch stencil goosebumps onto your skin? Didn’t you feel your toes curl when I kissed you? I did. Didn’t you feel safe in my arms? Didn’t you take the moment to memorize my face the way I did with you? Didn’t your heart accelerate in rhythm every time we embraced each other? Didn’t it feel right? It did, right?
You were scared.
Terrified to feel love then be left. You did’t want to get hurt and so, you hurt me. You shattered my heart as if it didn’t matter. But it did, didn’t it? You didn’t want to fall into the same feeling as before… You didn’t want to get comfortable because once you did then I’d break your heart. But, what you failed to realize; is that I couldn’t do it. I loved you way too much. I thought about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it because what I felt was real. Afraid that I wouldn’t be fortunate enough to feel it again. You failed to realize; I wasn’t her.
So, the couch holds significance.
Our every argument, kiss, and giggle. The memory of your smile, the heat of your body, and your touch of ‘home’. The gray couch reminds me of how I felt when I was with you. Praying that you’d open your eyes and see that the emptiness can be filled with my love. I won’t let anything happen to you because I don’t have the heart space to do so much damage.
I wish you could hear me, feel me and that forever would be possible.
But, that isn’t US anymore.
You weren’t ready to be loved by me.
Maybe never will be.