Futile devices

I don’t know what we are. I never did.

I just know how warm I felt next to you and how precious you were to me like some pearl from the ocean bed. 

How I always told you everything that happened to me, everything I did, everything that crossed my mind or my heart, but I could never tell you that i loved you and that my heart would perish if I went a single day without you

. Without looking at you in your eyes or listening to your voice that makes my heart beat faster than it ever could.

I still remember how I would leave everything when it came to you, when it came to you meeting you, speaking to you, trying to love you but I couldn’t. I couldn’t love you enough for you to love me back.

It was always me. But how long could a boat row with just one end in the water. how long could a man last with no one to love? 

How long could a cold heart last with no fire? 

I loved you, you never did. 

Everything I did was full of you. I wrote you, I spoke you, I saw you, I wanted you. Can’t remember when that want turned into a need.

The box of letters, the basket of fruits next to the lamp post are full of you, and I, I am full of you too, I always was. Bones and flesh? No. I was made up of your love and so was I fragile like your love for me.