I promise not to unrealistically depict you. You are sarcastic. You are flirtatious. You are coy. You were kind. You had a nice smile. You had a sweet voice. But I will not make the mistake of losing myself because I lost you. Because this time, I know who I am. You are another gorgeous face to fall pray to my charms, but I will never admit if I was affected by yours. I am strong, and though I loved the way you made me feel, I love the way I respect myself much more. I will not do what I did last time. I will not set fire to my soul, and I won’t hope to burn the scent of you that still lingers on my skin. I will remember you, I will know that you happened. But more importantly, I will erect a small monument in my brain dedicated to your memory. I will sculpt each curl and every wave in your hair and each limb to perfect accuracy. I will sign your name at the bottom and admire my work. Damn I did good with you. But then I will remember, I can always do better, and I will crumble your sculpture to dust. I will not fall apart on this August 23rd as I did on the last.
It is time to seize the moment. Hold a little longer. Hug a little tighter. Squeeze a little harder. I will not let go, I do not except the ephemeral nature of this moment, I am going to stay here forever. It is the final countdown, I whisper to myself. You are close, as we lay together on early mornings, silently, loudly, tenderly. you pull me to you and I am reminded that your body won’t be mine forever. But I also realize that your body is not what I want. You lay your head on my chest. “I can hear your heartbeat”. You look up, as your blue eyes catch the early sun and pierce me. I see you. I want you. Your heart, your soul, your smile, you likes, your dislikes, your flaws, I want all of you. My heart skips, and you notice. I feel it pounding inside me, trying to leap out of my chest. My skin is warm as you kiss the goosebumps on my arms and shoulders. I’m on fire for you. Just don’t let this moment end today. Let me lay here forever.
In moments of self reflection and growth, I see potential in vulnerability. As I look around myself, I see wounds no longer festering, but wounds not yet fully healed. How must I grow when I am still hurting? I do not live at the expense of my abuser, but I am open. I am selective. I have become a Sherlock Holmes of sorts, studying those who step within my circle of protection; the glass case around my heart. No longer do I push those out of my safe space, my hiding place. No longer do I shut them out. In the valley of my heart, the battelfield in which I have been defeated and I have conquered, I lay here now. There is no fight to be had, I cannot find the strength. I am taken by you. You tap your finger against the glass and it shatters without a struggle. I am weak under your touch. I am nervous, as you gently undress my personality, reveal my secrets, and behold my naked soul. But I trust you. We look at each other nervously, too scared to stare too long but unable to look away. You are my undoing, as I stand naked before you, I surrender to your touch.