It’ll be weird seeing her again. It’ll be like revisiting a memory that you thought you’d forgotten. Her hair will be longer, or shorter, her hair will have changed; hair always does. Her eyes will be the same. Hearing her voice will be like going back to the place you used to live and noticing the new curtains. Being close to her will be strange. She’ll say something like, “you look well,” and you’ll reply with a, “thanks, you too.” And it’ll feel like death, like an iron fist around your heart. And then she’ll point to your shirt and say, “is that new?” and you won’t have the heart to say you bought it seven months ago after she left, so instead you say, “I haven’t worn it around you before.” When she emits a small laugh you’ll feel the tiniest ounce of pride. She still finds you funny. When she’s telling you about her new life you’ll find your mind wandering into places you didn’t think mattered anymore. Places like, was she in love now and was she being treated well? Places like, did she ever miss you, and in and amongst all of her living did she ever consider coming back?
“But get this, I would do it all again, without hesitation. Because you see, we almost made it. And I’d go through it all, for a chance to see you again.”
-K.A.
It sucks.
Being so close,
But knowing,
I can’t.
Can’t kiss you.
Can’t hold your hands.
Can’t just hold you.
It feels like I’m holding my breath.
Waiting.
But waiting for what?
I guess that’s the question.
