He

He doesn’t get our inside jokes, darling

The innuendos that brought us endless laughter

He and I are still finding our humor, creating our culture, letting our formalities dissolve while our lust perches like a vulture

His body doesn’t fit with mine quite like yours did, darling

He and I are still finding our rhythm, dancing between air and fire, respect and desire

He remains a mystery to me in his newness, our future unfurls like a blank scroll ready to sacrifice it’s unwritten perfection in the name of living. We hold our pends awkwardly, unsure what to write. Our flaws will reveal themselves soon enough.

You are as well known to me as my favorite book- familiar stories I was raised on, that well-worn trauma track that feels like home. Pages stained, underlined and dog-eared, cover falling off. I know our lines by heart.

He’s not you, and what he and I have will never be what you and I had, thank God.

You hand picked me wild flower bouquets. He texts me rose emojis.

He doesn’t know our struggles, darling, nor our successes.

But he treats me better than you did.

You treated me like a princess but also like a prisoner. Your arms were my shelter, and my jail cell.

All those sweet cocktails only brought your bitterness to the surface. You drunkenly lashed out at me time and time again, and that is why we can no longer be.

I am with him now, and our journey is well under way.

Any heart that beats is a heart that breaks.

Yet after it breaks, it keeps beating.

All hearts stop beating on day, giving us a break from heart break

Perhaps in death we are united with the ultimate love- freed from our bodies, our spirits cannot help but melt together with all.

We will have to wait and see.

In the mean time, I am blessed to travel alongside him. I wouldn’t appreciate his humor, his body, his sweet gentle ways, if I had not known you first. I see how the pieces fit together, revealing beauty and perfection.