The theme song for this post.

You will never love me again. I've known for a long time, I knew before you left me. They might wonder why it matters at all. Because who you are now is not the woman I loved. I have not sought you out, I have made no serious attempt to contact you. I will not pursue you, because you can not and will not love me. But I can't forget the days when you did. I will tell about those days. I will explain my reality, it is the truest and deepest experience in intimacy I have ever stumbled on. For most people it seems sterile, just a blip nothing really meaningful. But for one as sheltered and lonely as I it was more than enough. I fear I will never recreate what we had. And for you, it meant nothing. You have proven yourself incapable of appreciating what we shared. You easily forgot it. All the more reason for me to hold on tightly, all alone. What you threw aside I will keep in your absence. And so we begin.

You loved me once, and you knew it the night we first slept together. It wasn't in a passionate embrace. It was much more gentle than that, in fact you were the one that held me. Later you claimed this was the moment that you realized that you liked me, you used the word love. A word you used many times, and I believed it. I still believe that for a short while you truly meant it when you told me you loved me. But we aren't quite there yet. A week would pass before we saw each other again. We met at a museum, we talked, it was pleasant but we hadn't really shown our hands to each other yet. I still wasn't convinced you really liked me, until you told me your middle name, right after saying, “You can't expect someone to be in love with you if they don't know your middle name.” Even I wasn't dense enough to miss your meaning. And yet I was still to timid to act.
We were to hang out with friends that night, before they showed up at your place we were alone together. You showed me your pictures from your trip to India, I played some music... a band that I still can't listen to, to this day. And when we began making out I'd awkwardly stop and express my opinions on the music. Because I still couldn't believe that it was really happening.
I was still too afraid to take the plunge, later that night I'd be too drunk to perform properly but I used other means to make sure you were satisfied. I'm not sure if that counted as the moment I lost my virginity, but if it wasn't I certainly wouldn't have to wait long, a few days later.
Until then there was our friends, and I wasn't sure if we should tell them but they could likely tell. You and I shared coy glances in there presence. When one of us walked past the other we'd brush past, I might feel your fingers softly move across my shoulders when you left the table.

I believe the next time we met after that weekend, I had gotten you a set of colored pencils I found in an art shop. They were hand carved. I knew you were an artist, and I'm always happy to support someone's artistic talent. We met in my dorm, I resided there alone at the time. And we talked, and we sat close to one another. And you looked into my eyes, and I looked into yours. Soon our lips were locked, and not long after that we made love. This time my fingers weren't required and it was passionate, it was expressive it was a confirmation and for me it was the first time I had ever experienced an orgasm inside of another person.
And we held each other for a long time afterward and you asked me, “Can I keep you?” And I said, “Of course.” I meant it, and I thought you meant it to. But there's a difference between, “Can I keep you forever?” and “Can I keep you for now?” I hoped for the former, but whether you realized it or not at the time, you meant the latter.

The next weekend everyone in our little circle knew. We didn't try to hide our affections in plain sight, as fun as those games were. Still I was uncomfortable flaunting it, and yet I was addicted to your touch, your kiss and your gaze. And at this time every whispered, “I love you.” Felt real, it felt tangible. I could have kept each of them with me, in my pocket. But “I love you”s are slippery and easy to lose. I only have a few left, in the forms of text messages. Some days I question if you ever said “I love you.” to me at all, so I need to check and make sure it's true. But the texts aren't accompanied with that sincere expression that you would show me when you truly meant it. I fear I'll forget it, but some nights it's all I can see... some nights it's haunting and I can't escape it, knowing I will never really see it again.

Valentine’s Day, to think I'd be lucky enough to be in love with someone on such a day. The peak of our relationship. I had never been so confident in my life, and never so sure that our love would stand the test of time. And yet, things could only go downhill from there.

The weekend after that was strange, ambiguous almost precarious. Perhaps I felt too comfortable and I wasn't expressing myself a way that asserted my feelings. I was too hyper, did I take things for granted? I know that it snowed Sunday night, and I stayed. We did speak of our past in more detail than we had before. Did my stories of innocence clash with your more world weary anecdotes. You said that we were meant to be though, that we came together at the perfect time. You also admitted that you expected you'd have more time to enjoy being single though. Despite that ominous detail we had sex Sunday night, it was passionate... but was it an expression of love? Was in necessary... maybe not. The next day we watched a movie and had sex again, this time I am certain it was unnecessary. We fucked, and it became awkward. It ended a bit abruptly though not with protest or obvious disappointment. But we didn't take pause to hold each other, to re-affirm that it was an action of love and not just a meaningless act. Your demeanor changed, and yet I don't recall the sexual act being forced, just awkward and perhaps poorly timed. Yet you promised we'd see each other over the next week, we'd have sushi.

We never did meet up for that sushi date, that week was different. Your attitude changed, you'd deny that our relationship was to blame. Can you be certain it wasn't part of it. The past weeks you'd actively send me texts and messages reassuring me that you felt that our relationship was impervious to divergent dangers. Now you hardly had any interest in me, you never used what I had come to assume was your favorite word anymore, “love”. This was the point that the doubts began to pile up, something had been unsurfaced and I was afraid to face it. But next weekend I would be at your place. It would be the last time I'd ever see you. I'm certain it will always be the last time we see each other.
You barely looked at me. As we hung out with friends you kept yourself just out of reach and made no effort to touch or kiss me. I was quarantined. I had to talk to you, I had to understand. I hoped it could be fixed, maybe things could still be salvaged and if not there needed to be resolution. I couldn't stand it, I had disappointed you and I still can't figure out quite how. There are many little ways, but it still doesn't add up.
But I wasn't imagining the distance between us. When I asked to talk alone with you, your reaction was indifferent, you maintained this facade that you loved me, but the mask didn't suit you. When you said “I love you but...” there was always a caveat, “...but I'm too busy for this relationship.”, “...but I have my own issues to deal with.”, “...but I never meant to be in a relationship so soon.” and so on. Sometimes you would omit the reasons and try to claim that you loved me, but your voice was weak, your eyes were empty, your touch was cold. You could not convince me, and you didn't want to anyhow.
You didn't want to be the one to officially break up. But you were the one who needed to. You were the one who was unhappy. You were the one who was disappointed in me. Because I wasn't as clever as you first though, I was far too awkward, too naïve. I wasn't always outgoing, I wasn't assertive, I wasn't always coherent , sometimes expressing myself in bizarre ways when I couldn't find the words. Through dance, though squeaks or chirps and I can only imagine that it could be consider odd behavior. I just ran out of words to express my jubilation. Especially when my behavior around others was quiet and reserved. Perhaps you thought I was a little too eccentric. But I didn't always behave that way around you. Because we had several meaningful moments when we connected on a level I could have only hoped to experience up until that point.
You let go of all that though. Not weeks later, you were over it before we last talked. You had already given up. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't make you love me. I wouldn't force you to. I wouldn't beg, and have you love me out of pity. So I took a step back, and you ran. You thought it meant you could play it like I left you though. So I'd be the bad guy, so our friends would turn their back on me. I didn't return because I knew you'd never look at me the way you once did. I couldn't stand to face that I lost you. That you had said to me so many times that you loved me, that we were meant to be. We were meant for nothing lost chances.

And now months later I realize how I'll never catch that spark again. I congratulate myself for not wasting any time trying to keep up with you, or pursue you. I'm not a complete fool, I know when there's nothing that can be done. I loved a woman named Devan once, but she's not the same woman that you are today. She's not the same woman who couldn't bother to try and actually express that she loved me, all the while lying to my face for absolutely no reason. Telling someone you love them while you crush their heart in there hands is a sure way to make sure they'll never be able to fall in love again. Only you could do that, but the woman I loved never would. She's gone now, I'll never find her again. I'll never look into those eyes again. Even if you were to come back, and claim in that empty, insignificant murmer that you could still “love” me it will only be in the voice you used the last night we saw each other. You could not sincerely love me, not like you once did.

But I hold on to what we once had. It was a once in a lifetime kind of love, cut short. I'm still certain I'll never experience such a thing again. So I need to keep it, you took so much from me. So I will hold on to this one keepsake. These memories, and the true words of love that you surrendered to me. When you were the woman that I loved, and I couldn't imagine loving anyone other than her. I just wish she still existed.