Once.

#latenightwriting Has anyone else had some version of this?

There’s a picture of us together with your family. Your arm is around me, and it’s casual... but not. Not romantic, but there’s still more at play.

You look happy. Protective. And I look happy because I know it’s from me. I remember leaving that day the picture was taken. I was almost to the door. I couldn‘t help but look back. The eyes I felt staring at me were yours. And I could feel the summation of what I was to you. I wasn’t your everything, but I was enough. You saw me, held me, shaped me.

I was giddy. It wasn’t because I felt I had power. It was just… us, and all that was there. That look will always be with me. I don’t base my life around it. In fact, I can’t always bear to think of it.

Nothing - and no one - has replicated that magic, which isn’t even the right word because love is more than magic. Love - four letters. Too few letters.

Sometimes you come to me in dreams. It’s heavy and hard. That life is gone. We know more now. That worId, those years. We knew less about life, time, ourselves. You could have grown into anyone, so many girls wanted it. And you picked me.

To be that seen and that loved… still cost me a lot.

I don’t think about experiencing that with someone else. Of course I’ll have more loves, but one will replace or erase you. I don’t believe in comparing loves. Even with your grime, mangled-ness, selfishness, there was a reason everyone wanted you.

We were pure and enough to each other. It’s rare and unable to replicate.

A fraction of our lives, but a lifetime of our own. ❤️