But I will never get there. I will never reach that sense of better understanding because there will always be more to understand until the day that I die. And if I ever do reach that utmost understanding in this life, then I die. I will never stop seeking to understand until I die or I die. And I hope you, I hope you can find strength in that statement. I hope you can find strength in the statement that I will never be able to understand you or love you to my fullest capacity in the fullest understanding of you because it means that I am relying more on my faith of believing that I love you and choose you rather than of understanding why or how. I hope you find strength in the statement that I will never be able to love you in my fullest capacity because I am leaking. There is always more to know about you because you are a living and growing soul, not just being, but always becoming and I’m relying more on my faith of knowing he fills because I am always lacking than on my desire to fill myself with the things that I believe are sufficient enough for you because they never will be.
And yes, I’m talking to God, but I am talking to you. I wrote this down for you because I want you to remember that I will never be enough for you because only He is. And I apologize in advance for the moments I will believe that you are enough for me because you don’t deserve to be put under those expectations that will inevitably fail. You deserve more than that. I wrote this down for you because I want you to know that in every moment, with every failure, with every triumph, I will be walking down that road towards you. I will be seeking you and choosing to believe that regardless of whether I understand it, regardless of where I will end up or how I will get there, I will go because you are there and I choose you.
How do I not doubt that you think I’m beautiful when you’ve only told me a handful of times? Because I see it in the way you look at me. Every single time. There is no hesitancy or glossy gaze. You’re enamored. And I don’t say this to be prideful, I say this to say: you look at me like I’m a work of art, delicately crafted with skilled hands, and when I see it in your eyes, it helps me better believe it for myself.
your eyes recite verses of history
and all I want to do
is sit before you
and travel back in time.
take me to the genesis of your heartbeat.
the words goodbyes are made of.
We sat on the swings as I gave you a gift that floated through the air, twirling its way through your hair and hitting you in the chest like honesty always does, wrapped in ‘um’s’ and ‘like’s’ but in one unique ‘thank you for loving me & reminding me that life is worth fighting for.’
And then we kissed and our smiles fell into each other in some sort of way that finally gives you the ‘aha!’ wonder of what it feels like in the movies.
(You come to find, it’s better than the movies.)
When I first felt that raindrop on my skin, it was as if Heaven was letting me peek through her fingers to see my surprise: a beautiful warm summer shower. My hair began to plaster to my face and your hair only seemed to curl more, as the summer shower turned into a torrential downpour. The sky opened up and boy, did she sing.
It was the moment when you said “you taste like rain” and I burst into a delightful holy laugh that I knew fifty years from now, I would want to remember this moment like it was yesterday.
You said “things can only get better if they change.” So we walked back to the car as tears chased after then raindrops on my cheek. All I could do was let them fall, and thankfully, you let them fall on you. Even as my mascara seemed to trail behind, over my nose, up to my eyebrow, across my cheek, and settling in to your shirt, you didn’t mind; you called me ‘beautiful’ just the same.
But I couldn’t stop it. The fears came just as quickly, spilling out like smoke from my throat- so this, this is what has been choking me- filling up the car, blinding me from seeing truth. But you spoke and where the light is, the darkness can not comprehend it. It was gone.
I saw you only to see me in the reflection of your eyes, an absolute mess but loved nonetheless. Then you pulled me in, a florist with gentle hands (& smiling eyes), leaving with ‘I believe in you, fearless.’