I miss you. I miss you so much although we barely talked. I miss the flesh-to-flesh feeling in bed next to your nude body in its full glory, as if a limb were missing, although it never happened. I miss crying on your shoulder, although you gave me a cold one. I miss the late night conversations we never had. I miss having your delightful presence around, although you never set foot in my apartment. I miss feeling safe and secure with you, although you were never there for me. I miss the kind words you never whispered in my ear.
I miss the love you never gave me.
I miss you, and I need you.
The mature woman in me, the shrewd lioness has finally gone, the aggressive dominant has suddenly disappeared, and got replaced by a sixteen year old school girl who wants puppy love and vanilla sex.
So here’s my full story.
My Love for you has started so subtly from an angle, it was developed over the years by time, it was built gradually on solid convictions, and blossomed in fatal sexual attraction. I loved you because I wanted to be taken. Kidnapped. Captivated. Emotionally and physically. I wanted to lean on someone strong enough and capable of taking care of me. You sounded like a knight in shining armor and I wanted to be rescued.
After one year of lurking in the shadow, being endlessly entertained by your alluring presence and brilliant ideas, I found myself head over heels in love with you. I was dying to have you in my arms, you and your hypnotic voice, but I was intimidated by your personality and your unemotional approach to life, that cold demeanor of a self-sufficient man who needs no woman, and I was so afraid that you would enter my life and ruin it forever. So I was dragging my cold feet about whether or not I should take you for coffee, moving a leg backward and forward. The mature woman in me, the shrewd lioness has finally gone, the aggressive dominant has suddenly disappeared, and got replaced by a sixteen year old school girl who wants puppy love and vanilla sex.
I do not know the reason behind those feelings I harbor for you. Is it your sharp, intellectual mind that endowed with excellent discerning faculties? Is it your masculine jawline and eyebrows that frame your face perfectly? Is it your hypnotic voice that melts my heart? Is it your fine handwriting that reflects your artistic notions? Is it your flawed hand that can hold and fire guns? Is it your lonely, angry soul that keeps scratching people violently like an old, wounded African tiger in the woods? I am squeezing my brain trying to fathom the reason behind my love for you, but whatever the reason is, I am keeping it to myself and I shall never whisper it in your ear.
You asked me what do I really want, then nervously left before I give you a proper answer. Well, I want you so bad, so close in here, but I do not want you to be just a fling because you are so special to me.
I have never felt this close to someone; so close that I do not understand why you and I have two separate bodies.
I used to come around, and you used to push me away, every single time I tried to get closer to you, you shut your door to my face. I crawl back into my shell again. I deactivate, date another man, or write a fictional story only to get over your passive-aggressive, hostile attitude. I used to stay up all night hanging around your words for years, I talked to you a lot in my head, while your heavy silence was looming around filling the air.
When you finally reached me out, to me it was a dream come true, I opened up to you a little, and you judged me, then you shut your door again, brutally.
Too much cruelty can kill anything.
I mastered the art of carrying my emotional baggage elegantly.
It is impossible for me to describe the way I feel now in any proper language. I am afraid, confused and deeply hurt, yet my stupid heart is begging me to give you another chance. Another chance to see me for who I am, to go through my drawings and paintings, to listen to my poems, to be kind and gentle with me, but I fear that it might be another chance to abandon me.
There is a subtle feeling of joy in such ambiguity, a wicked sense of pleasure in this intense emotional pain, the feeling of a fading flame into the void, the memory of a lost love in agony and despair. Yes, you left me with What Ifs and Why Nots, a grand question mark, and above all, an incredible artistic inspiration. Those are my fuel to work and design these days. This unrequited love.
I mastered the art of carrying my emotional baggage elegantly. Since you were gone, I channel my feelings into art. A buildup of dissatisfied emotions and unanswered questions creates the most beautiful artworks in every field. Your frequent withdrawal and your deliberate absence both internalized the sadness within me. Other men are after me, I am being pursued by many, many eager suitors, but I only want Thee, the only one who does not want me.
I hope that you will never go to that place, or feel this pain or be so sad. I hope that your phone rings now and it is someone you are desperate to hear from. I hope that you open your messages to find loving words from those who love and care for you.
I hope if you cross my path accidentally once again, you would remember that I have loved You.
I wish You well.