Have you ever wondered how it would feel like to kiss someone, knowing it would be your last?
It was vivid, full of passion and emotion. The tears we shed were of rivers. Tears filled with grief and loss. I held her in my arms knowing that there would be no one else to love me, the way she did. And I released her, knowing that I would not ever share these feelings, not to anyone.
Driving home, I couldn’t help but think of the things we have gone through, our first kiss, that night I met your parents, that time we almost got arrested, or even the relief we felt right after that pregnancy scare. I knew I would treasure these moments and place them at that most meaningful spot, the middle of the chest, a little to the left, right where they say the heart is supposed to be.
But what I would remember, even in my final hours, were the words she uttered while she was in tears, during our last moments.
“It’s just so hard, moving on. You have this person who knows you by your core, someone who loves you for who you are, and suddenly you can’t be part of that anymore. What’s harder is that you have to find someone who’s willing to listen, to grasp your entire being, just so you could experience all of that all over again. I’m just so tired.”
“I’m not mad at you. I’m sad. I’m sad that we didn’t work out. Why couldn’t we work out? Please, tell me. Why can’t we work out? Why can’t we be the ones who’ll end up together?”
I secretly hated myself for not knowing what to say. At that moment there seemed to be no proper response. But maybe the sudden burst of tears was enough to say, “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry it didn’t work out, I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to make it work out, I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations, Lord knows I tried. I’m sorry, just that, I’m sorry.