if we never speak again

{3.18.2025}

And if we never speak again, my final act of love would be to love you enough to let you go.

You always had the spirit of a wild horse, meaning that your instinct was always to run. And my final act of love, would be to let you follow your heart and inherent spirit.

I will always love you, and deep down, a part of my heart will always long for you. You brought out the absolute best in me, I was happier than I've ever been. I had a glow about myself that I hadn't seen in years, and I thank you for that.

And all of the times that you said it was supposed to be us, you were right. Deep down, we knew it was always supposed to be us. There was always a certain pull, and there still is. It's still supposed to be you, and I know it won't happen. But it was supposed to.

I shouldn't have to be scared that I'll miss you in a wedding dress, I should be looking to you while I'm in one. But I'm terrified that I'll have to miss you in a wedding dress, that if that day comes I will stand at the altar looking at a pair of eyes that resemble yours, but aren't. That I chose because they remind me of yours, even though I know they'll never see the parts of me that you did, they will never look at me the same way that you did. They will look at me, and likely strain to see and crave my soul the way that yours did, but all they will see is the shell of a person that was left behind, when my soul followed you knowing that my physical body couldn't.

I shouldn't have to be distracting myself in mindless conversations with strangers, in a sorry attempt at trying to forget you, I should be talking to you about the stars and the moon and soul ties, and what we think happens after we die. I shouldn't be finding myself sending new people the most basic dance videos that I know they will never understand my love for, while I cried to you about the years that I missed out on it. I crave intellectual stimulation, and no one else matched it the same way that you did. The deepest of hypothetical, spiritual conversations were so easy with you. You always understood exactly what I meant, I didn't have to break down the simplest parts of spirituality for you. You were on the same page, we knew what it was. We knew from the beginning what this bond meant to us, that it would never feel over.

I shouldn't be wishing for comfort from a friend's bed to distract me from my own, because it has memories, scents, and traces of you embedded into the threads of the sheets. I always hated physical touch anyways, unless it was you.

I shouldn't be going out on the weekends, drinking and getting home at 3am. I should be coming home to you, taking off of my makeup and doing my skincare before laying my head on your shoulder.

Instead, I've lost all sense of routine. I can't wake up early like I used to, when my drive for waking up early was to talk to you before you went into work. I can't go to bed early, either, because the only reason I did was because you were, and there was no sense in me being up late if it wasn't for talking to you.

And no matter what I do, I can't get you out of my head.

I still feel you in every inch of my apartment, my bed, my kitchen, my living room. I still picture you, crystal clear, perfectly, the night that you drove here in the middle of the night just to walk in and hug me. No words were said, our bodies said enough with just an embrace. I always felt my heart beat with yours. We were aligned, we were synced. I remember when you commented that my eyes dilated when I looked at you for too long, and that was when I knew that everyone would be able to see how in love I was with you. In that second, I knew that this would be the greatest love story, or my biggest heartbreak. And unfortunately, it wasn't a love story. It was a chapter, though, the one that people would reread over and over again.

Intense, passionate, emotional depth beyond belief. You were the greatest chapter in my story, and everyone who meets me after this, will know about you. Even if we never speak again, your name will forever melt off of my tongue to anyone I meet, bits of honey dripping off of it. You were, and are, quite genuinely, the love of my entire life. And in the deepest parts of my heart, I know that I will always think of you fondly, remember you gently, and keep our sweet memories where I know that they'll stay safe.

Every inch of you has been carefully etched into my brain, from your deep brown eyes that everyone sees, to the tattoos on your back that no one else does. From the dimples in your cheeks, to the way your hands felt. And of course I don't mean sexually, but I do mean intimately. The simplest touch from you, whether it be my face or the skin just beneath the hem of my shirt, was enough to make me feel soft again. All the years of the rough exterior after you, without you, melted away whenever you came back. People told me I seemed happier, that I seemed healthier. That I was more productive, more focused, took better care of myself. Because you made me want to do it.

I tried to forget you, I tried to distract myself. All I found was that everything reminds me of you. Spoke to someone, they said that they write. All I thought about was that you gave me the drive to write more than anyone else ever did. Spoke to someone else, they said that their favorite movie was the notebook. And all I could think was that if they were to fall for me the way that a romance movie implies, they would find only themselves in their own version of the notebook, but not the way they'd wish to. They wouldn't find themselves a main character, because that place will forever be yours. That storyline will forever be ours. Maybe we didn't get to finish the movie, but I'll pause it before I try to recast you in a role that no one could replace.

You are what love meant to me. Even if this is all I have left, I will forever cherish the time we spent together, and your last dried roses will stay hung on the wall. The rest may go into a box, but I'll never let it go far, even if it may just stay in the corner of the closet. And if we never speak again, if our paths never cross again. I hope you know that I loved you more than I am capable of loving anyone else, and that I loved you deeper than I thought I ever could. I hope you know that there will always be a place for you in my heart, decorated in red and checkered patterns, with a couple of butterflies and candles for warmth. And if we never speak again, my final act of love... would be to love you enough to let you go.