I wish he would talk to me. There are still things I’d like to tell him…still things I’d like to say.
Mostly, I want to say to him, thank you.
Thank you for letting me know you, even if only briefly and in muted glimpses of who you actually are.
Thank you for bringing passion back into my life and teaching me new ways of intimacy.
Thank you for rekindling in me the desire for more love and magic in my life.
Thank you for being my muse and inspiring such beautiful and intense words from my soul.
Thank you for quietly letting me love you for a time, even if it became too much for you to handle in the end.
And most importantly, thank you for not returning my love. That rejection and everything that came after devastated me. It broke something in me. But when I am finally loved, I want it to be by someone who has the same affection, passion and excitement for me that I do for him. No doubts. No hesitation. No games.
And we both know you would never give me that. So even though I didn’t understand at first, thank you for doing everything you could not to waste my time. And I’m sorry I wasted so much of yours.
*Sigh* But I can tell him none of this. He’s so caught up in his hate that he won’t even acknowledge me on a personal level. He won’t even allow me to speak to him about anything other that trivdial, mundane matters.
I wish he knew that the remnants of love I feel for him is selfless. It’s a quiet and forgiving love. A love that is not born out of urgency or expectations. Just a love that wishes him only peace and happiness. I am not his enemy and I will never hurt him…or hate him. I just wish he knew that.