I touched a dream a little, thanks to you.
With your smile so full of promises, with your eyes flooded with love too great to contain. I felt unattainable, infallible, invincible.
Injuries and pain had tried to extend their hold on my body.
But there you were, waiting for me in that mythical place.
And my steps, oblivious to the cold, the rain, the hurt.
My steps led me to you.
To you, greater and more beautiful than a cathedral.
I saw your silhouette and revelled in your every movement, stealing these moments from you as you were unaware of my observation.
Nuzzled in your chest, I was untouchable, veiled by a fortress protecting me from all evils.
I was home.
Your lips went so well against mine.
I had arrived.
In your blue eyes, I was the only one.
Is there a better place than against your skin? Is there a better smell than the one I breathe on your neck?
Is there a better future than “us”?
A better feeling than having your hand in mine, your irises looking through mine? A more comforting gesture than your worn fingers on my tense leg?
And I lost us across an ocean.
But more so in your words, full of fear.
Fear of a reality that would chase away your woes, fear of risks and of winding paths leading to light. Fear of having to walk through the shadows to reach the clearing. Fear of your everyday life, half-dark now, where you force your smiles and crave running away.
We would have made a camino of every day.
How do I forget your voice, the way your accent axes certain words? How do I live without that voice every day of my life?
Yes, I gave my heart to you, but I would have given my lips, my hands, my shoulders, my nails, my teeth.
I will never have known what it is to protect you in my arms? To hold the child in you close to my heart and reassure him?
To love you in your vulnerability.
Thus, we stay perfect.
I would have chosen our imperfections. Discovered faults, confronted disappointments… because our lost story, it’s crazy how beautiful it is, no matter its conclusion.
I have to say goodbye to my dream.
I did not know it was you.
I understood it the first time I saw you. This is what I have always wanted: your smile, your dimples, your ravaged eyes.
It was buried somewhere, but when you smiled at me, I knew.
It was You.
We won’t have promenades in Montreal, hand in hand. No kiss on the Giants Causeway. No evenings spent, curled up in musical notes. No apartment in Amsterdam. No week-end in bed and no night side by side. No vacation in this city where you promised to take me. No children.
We have just met and already, it is the end.