Something nudged at me to look you up today. You'd done it recently too, liked a couple of my posts. I saw you'd posted about a new love. I waited for an ache, a moment. There was nothing. I waited a long while to make sure.
I remember how hard it was now, loving you. You weren't out. I was. I was older, more established. You less so. Fire and ice, day and night, yin and yang. True opposites. I wanted you to be proud, claim me as yours- not as property, but as your person. You were so afraid back then. It looks like you're less so now.
It's easy to see why we didn't work out now. Of course that's what time does, doesn't it? Spreads out like threads, making it easier to distinguish one thing from another. Tug on a chord, and track down a memory. Follow it, and if you've grown at all you'll see the subtle differences.
I like to think we learned from each other. All the anger and hurt is gone from me now. It's crazy to think I met you six years ago...
Then why am I writing about this? You were the last woman I loved. I ponder often if that will always be the case. Others tried to win my regard, and I just wasn't ready for what they had to offer, nor wanting of them. I know I won't be the last for you. That doesn't make me sad though. Just a wondering.
I wonder if you look back on our time with fondness now. If you see the good rising above the bad, especially with everything that happened in the end. If being with me helped you in any way, maybe taught you a thing or two. Maybe not, I'm not going to reach out and ask. I doubt we could be friends.
I think one of the things I realize the most is how much I've changed. You were the last person I tried to wrap myself around. The last I tried to do everything for. Trying to fix in you what was broken in me.
The scars still show, of course. From you and the ones who came before. My partner sees them- the battle scars that define my insecurities and past heartbreaks. Will they just give me lip service, like you did? Pour honey into my ear, and tell me what I want to hear rather than what they truly want? Will they not understand my queerness, my blackness, my hopes and dreams like the ones before? Will they ask for all of me, and not give back in return?
I don't think so. I'm a different human now. They are too. Now I wonder how much of myself I actually gave to you, because this isn't the woman you claimed to love either. I'm sure you'd recognize bits and pieces, but the truth is- I don't entirely recognize myself. I like me, love me more.
I hope you find her, who brings out the best in you. Yourself.
I wonder if I'd want to be friends with her too. No, not more than friends. That time is long gone.
Maybe, maybe not. A happy fantasy maybe. Do we ever fully cut the chords of the people we gave ourselves to? I think that's another time question. I'm still younger than I think I am. Maybe that's an old lady question.
I think I'm done tugging this chord. Cheers to endings, and beginnings.
