Years ago – in a letter to my dead grandmother – I wrote,
I disappear.
I disappeared.
I was disappearing.
And then he saw me.
You saw me anyway.
And in your own way – you were breathing life into me. Ultimately, in the end, I think breathing life into me, made you breath life out of yourself, and you had to let me go.
So, you let me go.
Usually when I think of the men in my past – I think of the pain that came from those unions, I think of them as having shined negative light on my life, dimming my own.
But you’re different. I remember the joy that came from our union. I think of the glow you brought into my life, a neon light at the end of the tunnel, a beacon in the night.
You held me.
I don’t mean with your physical touch.
I mean,
you
held
me.
Even when you let me go,
you
held
me.
You were holding me.
You
are
holding
me.
Have you ever had someone touch you without touch?
Have you ever had someone caress you with their words?
Have you ever had someone hold you with their heart?
You were my friend before you ever became my lover.
You held me.
You communicated openly. You let me see your heart.
You held me.
I never had to question where you were or who you were with. Trust came easy.
You held me.
You understood me, like we were speaking in a language from a life before this one. Maybe your melancholy heart just understood my melancholy heart.
You held me.
I could be naked with you.
You held me.
Your eyes catching and locking with mine across the bar through the smoke, sweat, body heat, and liquor smell.
I felt you before I saw you, too.
You held me.
Your desire for me was always reflected in your eyes. Your hunger exciting me.
You held me.
You made me breakfast every morning that we woke up together.
You held me.
You took the time to read my heart.
You held me.
Your laughter was the soundtrack of my life for months.
You held me.
You would stay up with me even when you had to be up early in the morning for work.
You held me.
You were my first kiss. The first time you kissed me – you drunkenly made me ramen noodles. taking care of me even at the beginning. I was nervous and word vomiting all over the place because I knew that you were going to kiss me with your whiskey mouth. You told me to shut up and you kissed me. Being with you, was like a ramen noodle and whiskey kiss. Not understanding why two things, two people, who shouldn’t work together – work together. Shutting up, so we could shut the whole world out together.
You held me.
That night, when the stars were big and bright in Texas (not like the song, but literally) you led me through the dark in the woods, using steps you had memorized to a clearing – showing me your place to get away from the loud of the world and into the silence. Woods surrounding us, crickets chirping, breeze blowing, you held me.
Someone can hold you without ever using their hands.
They can hold you with a look,
a laugh,
a whisper,
their heart,
their mind,
their soul.
I hope that you’re not having to breath life into anyone.
I hope no one is having to breath life into you.
It’s hard work, I know.
I hope you’re simply breathing easy and living easy – and still loving – oh so hard.
I hope you were held.
If not by me, then someone after me.
I hope you’re held now.
I hope you’re holding someone.
You are still holding me, not in a can’t get over you type of way – because I am over you, but the way you loved me, the way you held me, is STILL, to this day, tiding me over until someone else can hold me.
I hope someone, someday can hold a candle to you.
You held me.
–S.
The Messy Middle 🖤 