My love, we were thunder and lightning; I call you out and you light me up, we are rapid and loud – almost like celestial wars. We are greater than fireworks, we are heavenly and glorious; but just like any other – ephemeral, fleeting and our timing seems to be always off.
Maybe what i’m trying to say is that, goodbye, is all.
We have carried each other through light and darkness, through silence and even in the crowds, through dancing with angels and shutting out demons; but I could only carry you out until you say my name – in which you, too, seem to forgot.
You loved me long enough to know that this – and whatever we thought we are (or hope to be) – is over. You showed me middle of never ending forests and greens, seashells and washed up feet, silver moons and shooting stars – only that they have passed. You’ve never let me through and through and for the first time, through all these, i’ll be seeing an end.
Maybe tomorrow i’ll wake up and realize I love it when you kiss me in between my sentences and that I never hated you ruining the leather of the backseat of my car – it’s one of my favorite places of all time. Maybe i’ll remember your hands in my hair and regret telling you that I never liked it; because in all honesty, I loved every second of your long, skilled, fingers massaging my bleached, gray, hair. And maybe, someday, i’ll wake up with a pang in my chest – the kind that cages my lungs and slices my throat and inside through – and realize all the love you have given me is more than the love I have ever needed.
But for now, i’ll be seeing yellow like my favorite flower you’ve been picking for me, or the dead stars we’ve been wishing to.
I’ll be picturing orange like the color of my dress on New Year’s Eve and my smeared lipstick all over your neck.
And i’ll be feeling red like my words, and the one I saw in your eyes when I left.
My love, we are sunsets – beautiful and ever passing –
And I could only wait until our love is gracefully born once again.