I think of you when I see couples walking and holding hands while my hand remains empty.
I think of you when it rains and you are not next to me, protecting me from thunders.
I think of you when I’m standing alone in the crowd, searching for your familiar brown eyes, but find hollow ones void of your shine.
I think of you when I listen to the playlist you created for me, but the songs and notes feel empty without your constant humming.
I think of you when I read any romantic quote that reminds me of you, missing your cheesy smile.
I try to remember your last birthday full of laughter and smiles, your warm hugs and the endless perfect night.
I think of you when I hear loud laughter, just like yours but not yours. I think of you when my hands are all cold and you are not there to hold me, I think of you when I have to cross the streets alone, without you holding me.
I think of you, I dream of you and I love you.
I try not to remember how pale your face was when I last saw you, without your warm dimpled smile.
I try not to think how unbearable cold your palms were, contradicting your warmth.
I try not to think what your last words were. I try not to think how I could not stare at your eyes, my favorite brown eyes, but forever closed.
I try not to remember the last time you called me ‘love’ and ‘kay’. I try not to break down at every dream I have of you.
I try not to remember you on your birthdays, as the empty promises hang heavy in the air, unspoken words that now echo with a deafening silence. The ache in my heart intensifies, a hollowness that no celebration can fill.
I try not to think of the immeasurable distance between us. I try not remember our incomplete love, but fail to do so every time.
But I hope to dream more of those brown eyes that held love for me, I hope to dream of the future we had planned, and I hope to love you as life goes on, as much as you did. I hope to love myself, as much as you did.
What we had was just love, not broken, not incomplete, it was the love we shared, imperfect just like us, but our love.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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Photo credit: K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash
