Gone

I steal a glance at you,

just for a second,

and already, I feel the conflict settle in.

I revel in the quiet embrace you hold me in—

a warmth I had never known.

A tear slips free

because, for the first time,

I understand what it means to be truly desired,

to be experienced in a way no one else had wanted before.

I now see why people return to those

who may not be the best for them

but make them feel safe.

Because if this ended,

and I had even the slightest chance to return,

to this space,

to the sound of your breath,

the rhythm of your heart,

to the feeling that we had known each other before,

that we were meant to meet in this lifetime—

I would.

And yet, even in that moment,

as I held onto you,

I was trying to burn it into memory.

Just in case you were like the others.

Just in case this was the first and last time.

I thought this time was different.

I thought I could let myself like you.

You said we would see each other again.

But now you’re gone.

And I hate that right now,

it’s the only thing I crave—

to be close to you again.

To feel the soft caress on my knee

that awoke something in me.

The way your arm found its place around me so naturally.

The way our bodies fit together

as we lay side by side,

closer than strangers should be.

And I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that kind of comfort again.

So why am I crying now?