my-love-is-a-fever

[my-love-is-a-fever]

I wonder if I’ll always be haunted by what we could have been?

[my-love-is-a-fever]

the grief of growing

[my-love-is-a-fever]

I’ve always resonated with unrequited love long before I could even conceptualize it.

Almost as if it comes to me from a live already lived.

A melancholic memory of a time long dead.

And I wonder, when it’s all said and done,

Your Lily to my Snape,

If the memory of us will be my Patronus,

And if I’ll love you always?

[my-love-is-a-fever]

Perhaps my love of history,

spending hours in a library studying the past,

making a career of looking backwards through time,

was my soul’s way of trying to find you once again…

[my-love-is-a-fever]

The soft wind ushers me along the pavement, eventually pinned against the chain linked fence.

I watch from my quiet corner as day falls to night and night awakens to day.

Summer storms turn to crisping red and yellow leaves.

Wilted leaves turn to flurries of snow, burying me with every flake.

Eventually, the chill fades and blades of grass start to sprout through the cracks of pavement, and I know spring has finally arrived.

A chance at rebirth.

A chance at another season, where you could possibly see me in the corner and grab me by the hand.

But my skin, once colorful and luscious, is now weathered by the light of the Sun.

Beaten by the seasonal elements.

Fading, like my love for you.

I’m the ball that I left in your court oh so long ago.

And if you see me, you should take me in your hand again before someone else does.

[my-love-is-a-fever]

Months have passed,

summer to fall, fall to winter.

8/8 marks the date that I decided I loved myself more than I loved you.

I chose my sanity over nurturing yours.

I faced my shadows, and in the process, I also became acquainted with yours.

I felt the pain that came with leaving you.

I felt the pain that came with how your fearful behavior changed me.

I felt the pain that you try to bury deep within the depths of your soul.

While I loathe the way you treated me,

Hiding instead of facing your own vulnerabilities,

I still love you and think of you often,

And I wonder how long I’ll continue to love you…

Most likely until the end of time.

[my-love-is-a-fever]

[my-love-is-a-fever]

It’s really bittersweet and beautifully tragic to think that in another dimension not far from this one,

our shadows never clashed but danced a mesmerizing waltz,

and we’re blindingly happy,

healing hearts in each other’s hands.

[my-love-is-a-fever]

— Traci Brimhall, Dear Eros

[my-love-is-a-fever]

— Nikita Gill

[my-love-is-a-fever]

[my-love-is-a-fever]

I long to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving.

To tell you how thankful I am to have met you,

And to have experienced what we experienced together.

I long to tell you how much your avoidant tendencies stated a momentum of self-growth within me.

I long to tell you how your fearful tendencies pushed me into healing the wounds I never knew existed.

And that even though we hurt each other with words and actions, mirroring each other’s emotionally neglected inner children,

I will always be there for you.

Because we are one and the same.

So, Happy Thanksgiving.

And if we never speak again, I hope you can feel just how grateful and thankful I am to have met you.

[my-love-is-a-fever]

Ghosts of a Future Lost

Some of the ghosts of our future lost:

Going to your son’s hockey games. Teaching your daughter how to crochet. Cooking together. Watching your favorite anime even though I’m not a fan. Traveling to Indiana with you to see your childhood home for thanksgiving. Traveling to Florida in the summer for vacation. Camping on the beach. Camping and stargazing. Having children. Me decorating your home. Growing old together. Lord of the Rings. Tattoos. Laughter. Stupid yet endearing dad jokes.

I miss you even though I shouldn’t.

And I’ll always miss what could’ve been while forgetting what actually is.

[my-love-is-a-fever]

I went to the movie theatre today.

It was the first time I’ve been since I went with you.

Even though you weren’t there, I could feel you sitting next to me.

I could almost see you sitting next to me, like as astral projection.

And I allowed myself to cry without caring what others thought.

Maybe one day in the future, we can see a movie together again.

Once we’re both healed.

[my-love-is-a-fever]

It’s a debilitating, otherworldly feeling to know that I could never be with you again, but also crave you so fervently that my soul aches…

[my-love-is-a-fever]

Pandora’s box…

Or my box…

Hope stays nestled within,

She presents herself to me.

I cling to it, like a long lost, imaginary friend.

I entwine my fingers with hers, and all is no longer lost.

She whispers a dead language into my ear,

Promising that answers will come,

They’ll come in divine timing,

When they’re meant to.

To have faith and trust.

And perhaps then,

When we’re both on the mend,

We can come together again,

In divine union,

For a second chance at sometime magical and otherworldly.

[my-love-is-a-fever]

Missing you comes in waves.

Some I can see approaching, brought on by a picture, a date, a fragrance, a place.

And they withdraw back to the depths of my mind as quickly as they arrived.

But others come on suddenly, like a rogue wave, a violent flooding of my heart and soul.

And those are harder to resurface from.

If I ever resurface at all…