I want to love her, but I can’t.
There is little solace in the empty void I feel, in the shallowness of the silence between us. There is little feeling in the cold, gray hands of emotionless prose, in the dispassionate stories we tell one another.
She is there, in her space, and I am here, in mine. Nothing, it seems, will change.
I want to hold her, but I can’t.
I stare at empty hands, make love to empty visions, share my dreams and passions with empty ears. They do not know me, and they can never hold their breath long enough to dive deeper than the shallows. I don’t reside where the sunlight shines, I reside in the deepest and darkest abyss. I am the light there, should you ever choose to visit and to shine alongside me.
What I would do to feel your skin upon my own, and whisper in your ear “you are beautiful” when the morning comes. What I would give to show you that nothing changes between the dusk and the dawn, and that unpainted you is still a canvas to be adored. What I would offer to the gods to hold you over and over again until my final breath, and to hold you then, when the Sun never sets.
I want to tell you, but I can’t.
I want to tell you that I love you, not with words but as a man devoted to the sacred space we share. I want to tell you as I trace the lines of your skin with my fingertips until you beg me inside. I want to tell you in the truest way I can, in the deed, in the action, of a man in love with the piece of his soul impossible to leave behind. I want to know myself as the piece of your soul you simply cannot let go.
Those things…those truths I feel when I sit alone with nothing but the stillness to warm me. Those visions that come, those waves of desire they bring, those subtle tears that flow in a testament of a truth my lips dare not share.
I love you.
If love is a feeling, then it must be true. If love is a complete knowing, then I know. If love is something special, then that space I’ve saved all this time is a testament to its existence.
If being love is to be the light, then let us shine. If being love is to hear and be heard, then let us speak our truth. If being love is sharing space, then let us sit together by a stream, basking in the mountains, speaking with nothing but our joined lips. If being love is shouting hymns to the stars above, then take me inside of you as we sing our song together.
Alas, I want to love you, and I do. I want to hold you, and I’ve never stopped. I want to tell you, and you’ve heard.