To the first

What qualifies as a first love? Is it your first kiss back in 3rd grade or is it the quarterback you let take your virginity in the back of his pickup? For me, its you. Its the way you looked at me, adoring and innocent. It was your lips pressed against mine for the first time. And more than anything it was just you being you, breathing, sleeping, simple you. Does that make me weird? Does it make you want to change your mind?

We were the same, you and me, separate beings who just somehow shared everything. It was effortless. I could find you anywhere, identify you by your footsteps in a crowded New York City subway. I could smell your scent while lost at sea. I could look through walls and buildings only to find your gaze. I have never been so transfixed. Now when I turn my head all I see is an empty bed. How did that happen?

Like a Jigsaw, every single piece of ourselves fit perfectly into one another. Talk about picture perfect. I mean we were it, music video laughing under white sheets as the magic force of our love lifted and draped them over our bodies kind of it. Can you help me understand?

We could be doing so much right now. Sex on countertops, ice cream in bed, trips across the world but that’s over with. You stole that from me. You stole everything from me, my ego, my love, my future, you took everything like a thief in the night. Silent and creeping you robbed me of my dreams.

I’ll never get that back, the innocence of it all. The way it felt during our first kiss, like warm honey or the way your smile felt like sunny days. I won’t experience another person’s laugh like a new gift every day. No one’s ever gonna touch my skin like a bed of feathers or get familiar with my bodies curvature like you did. No one else knows my map like you do.

Can I ask you a question? Does she know you like I did, like I do? Does she know how you like your grilled cheese’s? Lil bit of mayo inside and butter on the out. Can she fuck you like I can? Does she laugh at all your jokes? Is she smart? Is she friendly? Is she kind? Are you happy? I bet she rarely cusses and admits when she’s wrong. I’m sure she makes a mean lasagna and is a master at charades. I picture you playing scrabble with her even though you hate it. You’d give anything just to see her glow. I imagine her kisses are a lot like Japanese cherry blossoms, short and sweet and beautiful. Sex with her is phenomenal, soul taking, she’s got all the right kinks and a few wild ones too. She never lets you go to bed angry and she always smiles when you look at her. She’s nothing like me.

I guess maybe I’m trying to say sorry. Maybe I was too much? Maybe I pushed you to the edge too quickly. Maybe I was so busy floating in our love that I hadn’t even noticed you drowning. But how could you have been suffocating if every time I turned you were someplace else? That whenever I looked into your eyes searching for home all I could find were the lights off. Can you explain that? I mean how do two perfectly in synch beings just fall out of love. Who is writing our story because this isn’t how happily ever after’s go. People don’t just fall out of love, right?

Its almost like there’s a giant hole in my ceiling, a giant hole that I can’t fix and now the rain is flooding my apartment. Now I’m drowning and you’re cruising by in your brand-new yacht THE LOVEBOAT II. I like to think that if I had one wish, I’d ask for one infinite night. A night where no matter what we did or how late it got the sun would never rise and we would never have to leave our place. Because if we never left the bed, we wouldn’t have to go through this. I would be okay. But that is never going to happen and what’s done is done. You have moved on and I will never get that love back because you don’t get a refund on love. I don’t get to return my heartbreak for a new love. I can’t return my broken heart to you and make you fix it. It just can’t be done.