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Who I Wish Love Was

I wish it was me.

By Gabrielle Published 3 years ago 2 min read
2
Photo by Emy-Lee Lucas on Vocal

Amidst the turmoil of my own self-loathing, Love presented himself in the silhouette of a man. In the midst of trying to make clear what I was seeing, I had not decided anything but one; this is the wholesome part of me I have been looking for.

He was handsome - a passionless word to describe his living carcass. He would breathe words I longed to hear down my neck and took his time to figure me out - whatever it was he claimed he was figuring out. When he saw my sharp eyes staring blankly back at his, filled so much to the brim with admiration that I could overflow from a simple whisper of my name between his pedantically aligned teeth, he realized he needed to break me down into the woman he truly needed me to be - the softest, easiest part of him that he could manipulate and roll between his fingers as a comfort for his own emptiness. A solid year down the line had passed and Love started to expose himself as the sheep he really was; an effortless, lazy, complacent ball of wool in need of validation by one of the country's elite beauties - the attributes I allowed him to fuel off of me.

In the middle of the winter of my life, Love told me he had changed his name to Habit and wished me well. He did not say where he was going - all he knew was that he no longer felt safe between our sheets and all I had left to offer were two pairs of wet lips and a lullabies to his self esteem. He didn't wave goodbye, he did not cry. All I remember was a half-drank glass of water on the sink, the faint scent of loneliness and a shadow disappearing behind the ajar door.

I spent the most of my roaring 20s being quiet, careful and obedient in the name of not crashing down again. The only things which feigned familiarity were the sounds of pelting rain, soft nails tapping on piano keys, and a single fork clinking each night as I ate alone in silence.

At some point in the dark night, I awoke to the sound of heavy breathing and a woman looking back at me. She was captivating. She was kind. She looked comfortably familiar; I didn’t question her. I trusted her, and when she smiled so deeply at me, it felt like the snow globe of my story had been shaken and left to wobble on the top shelf. As if on queue, an intimate prickling found its way against my cheeks, coupled with the burning desire to reach out and embrace the angelic figure beside me. With no warning or hesitation, she wiped my falling tears against the back of her soft fingers and whispered, ‘it is going to be alright.’ As the words reverberated across the unswept floors, I gave a shy chuckle; how cliché these affirmations do sound, yet how obediently I believed in them.

It took nothing but a short minute to amass my surroundings and drink in the reality that I was, in fact, alone and staring back at who I knew the most - myself. The overarching feeling of love was coursing through my veins and the once-too-pressing feeling of grazing across the pale freckled skin to bleed it out lay devoid of attention. I was in love and, my God, I was beautiful. I was Love, I was electric and I was alright.

love poems
2

About the Creator

Gabrielle

25 year old girl from the islands 🌸

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