There was a feeling of inevitability when I met you. The sense that we would be together; that there would be a moment when you would look at me in a certain way, and we would cross the threshold from friendship into something so much better.
We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given?
I barely know you, she said, voice heavy with sleep. I don't know your favorite perfume or how you like your tomato. What keeps you up at night or the lullabies that sing you to sleep. I don't know a thing about the girl you loved, why you stopped loving her, or why you still do.
I don't know how many millions of cells you are made of and if they have any idea they are part of something so beautiful and unimaginably perfect. I may not have a clue abut any of these things, but this - she places her hand on his chest - this I know.
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I remember when I met you,
the hands of time stood still;
you and your camera smile -
a flash of something real.
We talked until the evening,
the moon came out for awhile;
the clock resumed its ticking
and my heart was on the dial.
The morning came to claim you,
and as far as I can tell you -
I will never know another,
who knew me quite so well.
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To you, love was about multitudes.
To me, love was inordinate.
I love you, I would say.
How much? You would ask.
I couldn't find the words to answer you then.
But they have found their way to me since. And this is what I would tell you.
I would blanket the world in utter darkness; I would pull back the veil of light and reveal to you, a blinding crescendo of stars.
I would drain all the seven seas and ask you to count - one by one - every grain of sand that clings to the ocean floor.
I would tally the beat of every human heart that has echoed since the dawn of our becoming.
And as you look in awe at the sheer magnitude of my admission, I would take your hand in mine and tell you; if only you had let me, this is how much I could have loved you.
YOU ARE READING
Wallflower
Lãng mạn"And like the moon, we must go through phases of emptiness to feel full again."
