Memories should have long faded with the passage of time and yet stand in such sharp contrast to the reality of my world, that the moments seem like they just occurred. I close my eyes with the weight of the past and I can feel the scratch of his scruff against my sensitive skin and smell that scent that is his alone. I raise my fingertips to trace my lips, surprised they are no longer bruised and swollen from his demanding kisses.
Time has passed and life has been lived and yet there is nothing separating me from his presence in my life. I’ve tried solitude and placing myself in chaos and nothing has worked to move me forward past the moment I became stuck; mired in the mess of broken feelings and tangled strings; fearful that the lost love is found every day, with every unbidden memory and physical craving for his touch.
The phantom pains of our instant separation throb every time I try to step forward. His absence is a daily reminder that my unrequited love was not reciprocated. Yet the beautiful face of a dishonest man haunts me and impacts me years after I walked away from him and accepted my decision with the finality of absolute certainty, that he was not worthy of the gift of my love.
And it feels like I’ve self-mutilated, creating slashes of wounds across my body and mind to distract myself from the emotional burden my choices have carried with them. Realistically, I know and understand that I took a chance at love and I misplaced my trust. I am aware of lessons learned and the importance of not becoming jaded. The reality is once your heart has been broken, after it was so newly repaired, it impacts you far longer than you realize.
I am not angry with him. I am not idle with the inertia of broken dreams for him. He contacts me occasionally, asking how I am and giving me a glimpse into his life. When I see his message, my heart squeezes and it takes all I am to stand firm in resolve to not allow him purchase, access, back into my present life. He is in my past for a reason and will belong there forever. It’s living with the ache of wanting him, that will last for the remainder of my life that at times, is hard to manage.