Stars & Fingertips

Losing Grip

I question why I write this. I question why this all makes sense to me yet at the same time it could not be more confusing.

You will never read this. You will never know how I feel. You will never understand.

I will never get the opportunity to love you again. I will never get the opportunity to feel safe within your arms again. I will never get the opportunity to explain.

I cannot explain why I have held on so tightly. I cannot explain why my knuckles turned white clutching to something I had never held.

But I can explain how I feel about him, and how it is so much different than how I felt about you. Whether this makes sense or not, or if I am ready to let go or not, I am losing my grip on you. You are leaving as you have already left me, and I will truly be alone.

Because I feel as if- I know that you will not come back. At least, not for me.

He is different.

I cannot describe the complexities of the relationship that I share with him. All that I can possibly say for sure is that he is everything that you never were, he is the chance in which I had never been given: he makes me happy.

His fingers intertwine with my hands in the coffee shop. His arms wrap around me as we fall asleep together and he keeps me warm, a warmth I had never felt lying next to the cold being that was you. His smile opens into mine as his emotions spill from his lips onto the floor. They roll their way down into the crevasses of the hardwood, seeping into the hardwood of my mind as they find their way into my heart. My heart is captured with these emotions which he labels love, and I do not understand.

I have never understood love the way that I understood the quadratic formula or Newton's Laws of Motion. Love is strange and love is unobtainable to a mind that only functions on numbers.

My mind functions on numbers but my mind is drunk off the feeling of his touch. My mind is in love with ideologies but my mind is skewed by his kindness.

How can a man that I had already loved be so prominent in my idea of what love can be like?

This story is quickly becoming a story more about him and less about you. My pronouns will soon need changing, because he is clutching to me for dear life, and I am unsure that he will ever let go.

As for you, I am losing grip.

I am falling and I will land in his arms. Instead of being crushed beneath your boots and ground into this dirt road I am caught with open arms. I am suspended above the hell in which I would have landed if I had lost my grip two days prior.

I am losing grip, but I believe that I am finally ready to let go.