If I Could Talk To You

i was so in love with you. despite the fact that we were different, it didn't matter to me. and i thought it didn't matter to you either. what was important was what i felt being with you, how we felt being together. those rare moments that i had with you, the little time that i had spent with you. you swept me completely off my feet, and i was smitten. you told me i amazed you, i thought it was the other way around. i told you i adored you, you admitted the same. that feeling was crazy, how i'd smile to myself everytime i got a text message from you. my friends would think i'd gone insane. perhaps a bit. it's as if i would float above the clouds, that euphoria washing over me.

i miss that feeling, and i'm thinking how lucky whoever it is that's feeling that way right now and having you feel the same for her. i can't say i don't envy her. i might just pull her hair out. humans are jealous creatures, and i am only human. but it only goes to show how much i was in love with you.

i've slowly recovered from the shock of learning that you're dating someone new. painful the process was, agonizing to say the least. i was a wretched mess. "a more realistic option", you said when i asked you why. i still don't know what you mean by that. i've made my own assumption since. but i didn't know it was our difference that made you look away. if it was the only reason that made you look away. if so, it was something we could've talked about. everything else seemed perfect. "i think our hands fit perfect, so do our heartbeats. i think our bodies would too." you were clever with words, not exactly a surprise considering it was your forte. and trust me, you would blow me away everytime. everytime.

i saw it happening, me and you. you did too. "i could really see myself growing old with you." how would a girl feel to have a man she's fallen head over heels for say those words to her. it's not something i would take very lightly. my only hope is that you really meant it when you said it. it felt good to know that someone would go the distance with you, save the fact that the journey didn't really kick off.

i know i'm not really over you. not quite. and the fact that i'd bump into you now and again at random places, i'll never really get over you. not really. so many "what ifs", all of which i'll never know the answer to. but i'm taking one step ahead at a time. looking back over my shoulder once in a while just to see if maybe, just maybe...

i miss you.

and you still owe me a painting.