They said I should be bitter, resentful, scornful…
And mourn you.
But, I couldn’t find the seed of hate
to plant in my heart’s garden bed.
When I think of your name, for some reason it’s all okay,
even if you are no longer there to hold my hand.
Because the truth is, sweet man,
you were, and will always be, my soul’s first friend.
Because you opened my eyes to something beyond ordinary life;
because, after you, I just could not go back to the way everything was;
because you made me feel and believe in everyday, organic magic.
You helped me live a fantasy I now know really exists.
And now I’m not willing to settle for anything else than the love I learned
straight from the heat of your knowing gaze,
looking right through me, where no one else before had seen—
After all the years of hiding, you delicately peeled away
my invisible veil, revealing my gashed skin.
You saw the real me, raw and bare.
But what’s most astounding is, I wasn’t afraid,
I let you go there…
You unzipped my dress, the one I bought to impress,
but what you found most impressive was me,
without the fancy drapes.
So, I washed my face and even thought about shaving my head,
because you made me feel at home—comfortable in my flesh and bones.
Cherishing my textured skin and the soul that lives within,
your sweet kisses fertilised love in me.
You saw the shy eyes, the many tears they had cried
and you wiped the tears and heard the gasps
and weren’t disgusted by my frail hands,
the many shots I told you I misfired…
You said it was all nothing.
And although you never dared
to tell me about your wounds as well,
I saw them, silently burning.
And, although we never talked about it,
we both knew this bond we shared was something sacred,
beyond ego and time and space.
I don’t know if our minds realised at the time,
our souls were executing their grand plan,
our spirits dancing vivid.
I could never hate you or forget you,
as tempting as it is, because sometimes my ego stings,
burning jealousy, blame, and envy.
Sometimes, I try to tell myself I’ll find someone better out there,
someone who truly deserves me and is ready to claim me.
Your loss, you know.
But the truth is, I don’t want anyone to replace you.
I don’t ever want to replace love,
because although the story might not have gone as it was “supposed to,”
we both know it was supernatural, and I don’t ever want to forget that.
I don’t know if something better will come,
but the love you ignited in my heart is enough
to last me this life and maybe the next, where we’ll meet again.
I know this is love because,
although I try, I just cannot find resentment for you in my heart.
And, when I close my eyes and see you there,
I just hope no matter where you are, you have a smile,
even if it’s in another’s arms.
I just hope you are safe and happy and not afraid to be yourself
and go after what you deserve, because I’m doing the same.
In the west, in this day and age,
the honourable title of “doormat”
is reserved for people like me,
who open the doors of their hearts and say
“Come and go as you please, it’s an open feast.”
In my case, it’s a banquet and I have no regrets,
because what else am I here for
if not to share the most precious thing I’ve got,
which is this love, fierce in my soul?
So, no regrets, my dear man.
In case you ever think of me again,
I’m sure you’ll know how to find me:
in dark alleys, in your dreams,
where I sleep tight, with you
and feel infinity in a kiss.
Author: Fiorella Matos Guerra
Image: Ashley Harrigan/ Flickr
Editor: Khara-Jade Warren
Copy Editor: Emily Bartran
Social Editor: Sara Kärpänen