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To Him

These are things I never write you.

44
To Him
Hope Swaim

The water glistens hues of orange as the summer sun begins to set on the distant horizon. The world standing still for a moment in an amber glow. In the distance there are people chattering and strolling down the riverside, walking through the shadows of the now dim street lights. I press my back onto the cold concrete bench and find myself in a heavy state of people watching.

Every person is waltzing through life, talking and carrying on about some nonsense. Most of them are couples, holding onto each other as children do. Gripping each other's hands not for safety but rather, for reassurance that they too are not alone in this thing.

In a sense of wanderlust with the hand of their love.

I often find myself back here in this same spot on this bench with my hands empty again. Coming back on the warm summer nights when the sun just begins to kiss the waterline, to clear my thoughts from my heart.

Lately, I've been thinking about you.

Wondering how in the world we went from friends to something then back again. I guess you could say that timing got in the way. I find myself jaded these days in the way I open up to anyone, even myself. Once as a child I used to believe that love was a force, something I chased after to experience. Thinking that one day, this power could fix me of all my broken parts. But it's done more damage than good. Building more walls than the ones it ever tore down.

With every goodbye, a steel brick put into place because I can't deal with the constant regret that I'm the one to blame. The repeating thought seared into the back of my mind, "If my parents couldn't make it, how can I?" I know you probably don't get it or realize the extent of why I over analyze every single move. But I can't get my mind off of you.

My heart far too prideful to let you ever know the truth that I cannot bare to see someone else know you like I do.

But my heart cannot hold another brick. Drunk texting and dialing because that's the only time I feel like I can wholeheartedly tell you, I miss you. An excuse, "that listen I'm belligerent, but my heart still wants you." We cling to things that we're too afraid to lose, and I guess that's why I'm here writing this in hopes that maybe you feel it too. That you don't want to feel me walking away from us or maybe just you.

My heart is a piece of glass that's been broken and put together too many times. Reaching a point where too many pieces are missing because I gave away all of mine. If you find yourself reading this know this is my soul has been laid entirely on the line, this letter is about you. Don't second guess it. You always told me you'd love for me to make you something, so here is a piece of myself with all the reasons why. The sky now lit with a million bright stars lighting up the city and I find comfort that you see the same night sky.

And maybe just maybe you won't let me walk away this time.

These are things I never wrote you.

I miss you.

-Her

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