Late Lost Loves

I'm sorry, but if I don't say this I'm gonna burst. Because someone needs to know, it just can't be you. Because if you ever found out, I'm scared you'll leave me alone again. I don't want to lose you, lose what we have together.

I love you.

I want you.

I want all your flaws, your insecurities, your doubts, your nightmares and every part of yourself that you hate. I want to trace your skin every night, drawing patterns, telling you how much you mean to me. No more just whispers of us telling the other that "I really care about you", but actual confessions from each other. I want to kiss your lips until you don't hate yourself anymore. I want to give you my eyes so you can see yourself the way I see you. The perfectly imperfect you. Because that's the you I love the most. I don't need a knight in shining armor, I need someone who sits and listens to me, who cries with me and someone who just cares.

I will never regret falling in love, I never have and never will. Every lost love is just another reason I am the way I am. I'm used to one sided love, so I don't mind if you don't feel the same way about me. Well, I care a little, but I would never force you to say something that you don't believe or mean. This is your life and you live it the way you want to. I'll never fault you for that.
But sometimes when I'm lying next to you, I imagine that you say those three little words to me, and I'm able to pass into a gentle slumber.

Did you know that you mumble sweet words into my ear when you're just about to sleep? You tell me that you'll treat me right and that you care deeply about me. Did you know that your eyes are the most beautiful thing on the earth? I wish you could see the way they light up when you get excited. I wish you could feel the shivers that course through my body when you touch my cheek, or the way you make me breathless when you kiss me deeply, full of need and a desperation that only a lonely person could understand. Did you know that when you wrap your arms around me, I've never felt safer? That I know if I asked, you would call me up and talk to me until I fell asleep because I was too tired to fight off my demons tonight. Did you know you have a soothing tone and you always seem to be able to make me smile no matter how much of a bad day I've had. You're so amazing, how could I not love you?

You're the first person I check in on at the start of everyday, and the last thought I have before I pass out. I find myself wanting to tell you everything that happened during my day, and I always want to hear how you're doing. I am genuinely interested in your daily activities and I want to know as much as I can about you. Everytime something brings you down the first thing I want to do is call you and make you laugh until you cry, but I can never find the courage to do so. What if I'm bothering you and then you resent me for it? What if you don't want to talk to someone and I make you angry? I can't stand the thought of making you mad, so I hide my true feelings and intentions down deep.

I want your heart. I want to hold it, to fix it. I want to be able to make you forget all the things that haunt you in the middle of the night. You have a kind and good heart, and you deserve someone who will keep it close and protect it. Maybe I'm not that person, but it's fun to pretend I am.

I want us to have a future together. Even if it doesn't last, just having at least a taste of what we could be would be enough to satisfy me. Eventually though, you'll find a girl whom you love with all your heart and she will be the luckiest girl on this planet.

I love you. I know you don’t love me. And that is okay for me. Being able to be your friend is amazing, no matter how much my heart yearns for you.

But deep down I know that the thought of us being together is nothing more than a dream. It will hurt when I wake up from it, but please, let me have just five more minutes in this fantasy.



Taking personal experiences and turning them into works of personal fiction.

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Joanne Rotchford

Joanne Rotchford

Taking personal experiences and turning them into works of personal fiction.

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