When we restarted this “relationship” of ours a year ago, you used to be a breath of fresh air. One day in your bed after the umpteenth time of our visceral sex, I looked at you and told you, “I feel most free in these moments.” But now with you I feel as though I’m gasping for air. Looking back through the many years of the times you’ve wronged me, I’ve realized it’s because you never thought this was right for you. Or if you have, you’ve buried those sentiments along with all of the vices that you have yet to let me inhale.
Even in the seclusion of those vices, those truths on your end, I’ve come to realize that you truly know all of me. I have given all of myself to you, just not at the same time. I have flashed some parts while I’ve hid others. I’ve regurgitated bits and pieces here and there that you have swallowed, processed and ingested that has now left an uncomfortable feeling in both of our stomachs. Mine starves as it empties to feed you, as yours struggles to hold both my components and the parts of your Self you refuse to spit out.
In our purest form, the elation I feel with you is unmatched. Slow dancing in your room to jazz. Our first summer. You wiping my tears as you tell me I’m beautiful. But with the dilution of lies, omissions, distance, exes, insecurities, pride, and time, I am reminded why it is impossible for anything this precious to remain untainted.