Chosen One
His eyes tapped away at my heart until it became a perfect box made just for them.
Curtains of dark lashes. You’d wonder how his eyes always shine through them. Bright, happy, clear.. Completely captivating.
He holds onto the moment with me, staring right back at me, into me. I’m in the moment, never forward, never back.
When he goes, my mind begins to creep beyond. What happens tomorrow? What happens in a month? A montage of the worst outcomes flood the areas he left. A moment from my dream where he’s with her. Moments where I wake and nothing has changed, he and I are still just that. I am just me, and he is not mine. While I’ve been his for months. A skipping track of that one text he sent. Visions of a heavy heart as I’ve grown weary of the waiting, drained of all patience, exhausted hoping for someone to see my value.
It is hard to bring myself back. He brings with him warmth and promise, but when he goes, I sow seeds of doubt. Fearing the next rain will bring the worst.
Wringing my hands because they are bound by all I cannot control. I only have heart. I only have love. I can only give, and wish that it finds a home where it can stay. Where it is wanted. Wish that we have a home where we can stay. Hope that he can love himself so he can accept my love for him, and have the confidence to love me the same.
I admire him more all the time. I soften. I pour myself out. Flooding all the cracks and crevices I thought would never see light again. I dream. I hope. I hold my breath over every bridge, cross my fingers when I glance at 11:11, and wish on every single first star my eyes meet.
I often fear I can never give him what he needs. What he wants. More than what he had. It would be easier to start a life with someone else. To be someone else’s first. To build a life with someone who chooses to build with me first. Someone who can’t compare me to their past.
But I’m trying to build on ground that has been broken. A space filled with the spirits and graves of what was. Dreams that never found the day, promises never watered and left to decay.
How can I ever give enough? Am I enough? Will I be chasing light in the shadow of someone he really loved? I can’t offer him the same things. He doesn’t trust me to be more. Will I always be a passenger? Hoping he’ll take us to the place I’ve been wishing for? Crossing my fingers in hopes that he sees me? Closing my eyes to dream of places he will never bring me?
I give. And give. I bare myself. I am raw and have nothing left to hide. A display of affection. An offering to the universe. These are the lengths I’m willing to go to. A constant sacrifice of my soul.
It feels like torture. Never being chosen by the ones you’ve loved with every inch of your being. Something about us feels like perfection, but also feels like a perfectly cruel joke. I am paying the price of someone else’s broken word. Taking deep breaths and practicing patience hoping maybe some day things can go my way.
I continue building a space for him in my life. Bringing him into all that I know. My friends, my family, my home and how I live. I take up the little things he shares with me, doing anything I can to connect to whatever he will lend me. I remain floating right outside his atmosphere. What am I? Left to circle the outskirts of his life, while he has a home in mine.
I need for him to choose me. Not just walk comfortably in my life, but welcome me into his. Take my hand and move us forward. I need for him to value my time, my love, my patience, and never want to lose that.
When he’s near, his love feels so big. But I quickly remember, as he goes, that he has not yet chosen me.