Grief for a Love Still Here
I still feel the languid beauty of her arms, slender, wrapped around my shoulders. The softness of her, unparalleled, welcoming, warm. The feel of her underneath me, more true, more accepting. She fills my memory.
I wish I were able to erase the pain between us, the pain she holds in her heart, the wounds she carries. I wish I were able to be enough, to be the one who could take her in his arms for all time.
When she held me, I felt more peace, more at home, than anywhere before or since.
She was my world, my dreams, my life.
I grieve for who we might have been together, if our wounds were gone, if we were able to talk to each other.
A part of me will love her, till death and beyond, will always grieve for us.
There will always be songs that play her in my heart, that bring back every sight, every smell, every touch. Songs that both tear my heart out and fill it up.
There are places, I’m surrounded by them, that are her. Moments that bubble up, unasked for, moments of bittersweet poison, but that I welcome all the same. They make the world fill with colour in memory, desaturate in the now. Memories of cherries, of moments in a hidden corner of an empty road, moments of truth and light and darkness and passion.
When I saw the world with her, I saw it with her eyes, a freshness and joy, a vulnerability, that my armour closed me off to long ago. The hardening of my chitenous shell.
This is a love story, like all the most beautiful love stories it ends with tragedy, two people with nothing of each but memory, the death of us.
I will always love you, I will always miss you, I will always grieve for you, and I am sorry.