I hate to say it, but it's true. He loves her more than he could ever love me. I see the sparkle in his eye when she walks into the room. She gets all of his attention, all of the time. He smiles at everything she says and her laugh follows him continuously. They always do this song and dance, even in my presence as if I do not exist. I can barely stand it. I watch, with jealousy and envy and wonder, where did his love for me go? Did it die? Is it buried too deep for resurrection?
I've loved this man since before I knew what love meant. He taught me how to forgive and forget and trust to the point of stupidity. I lost myself. Familiarity lived only in his arms. My first true love. I'd never met a man who loved both my beauty and my flaws. He loved every single piece of me, every nook and cranny. Knowing this, I began to create a world for only the two of us. No one else mattered. No one. He said he would love me for an eternity.
I never knew eternity had an expiration date. One night, after four years, seven months, three weeks, and six days of us being just us, he said he needed a break. We were too serious. He wasn't sure about us anymore, which translated into him not being sure about me. Right after I'd fucked him on the kitchen counter and against the wall near the hall closet, he told me he needed his space. I told him that I understood. But I didn't. I just wanted him to be happy. And I wanted him to think that his happiness determined mine. So I understood that my love and adulation for him was too much and not enough. And I understood that other lovers could possibly replace me, but I wouldn't let myself believe that he would leave me forever. How could he live without me? We were all we had.
He left me. I could not breath nor could I see. I whispered to Death to take me, quickly, before I changed my mind and found another reason to live. And then he called. He wanted to talk. I didn't know that meant he wanted to fuck. It didn't matter. I just wanted him in any way possible.
So he came and we came and our relationship changed. We were no longer a couple striving to be one entity building a world that would house two hearts. We became two bodies, only. One living inside the other whenever there was 30 minutes to spare. No dates, no travels, no friends, no family. Just sex.
I missed him. I missed the man who kissed my ear and whispered, "I love you, Princess", every night before he closed his eyes. I missed the man who said his only desire was to hear my laughter for the rest of his days. I missed the man who cried when I cried, who smiled when I smiled, whose heart was my pillow. So I stayed and prayed that this man would return. Maybe, as I moaned that I loved him, he'd say it back. Maybe, in the midst of orgasm, this new man's soul would escape as he exhaled, and I'd have that old love spirit to myself again.
He had to know how much I loved him. How could he not see? I may have loved him too much, but who can put a limit on love? I had that crazy love for him. That crazy "cut a bitch real quick" kinda love. That crazy "lose all my friends and barely call my mama" kinda love. That crazy "oops, I forgot to take that pill after you came inside me" kinda love. That "I'll do anything to keep you" kinda love. Anything.
And then she came. She entered our lives slowly, over the course of a little under a year. In the beginning, he was not happy about her. I convinced him that she was harmless and he'd grow to love her. I was right. We both grew to love her. She was beautiful and happy and giving and peaceful and…harmless. I thought.
I thought that she could help me keep him. She'd be part of the plan that would get him to love me again. She helped a little. But I soon noticed how he began to look for her more often. He became more concerned about her well being and soon wanted to be alone with her, just the two of them. I wanted to protest, but she was harmless, right? I had to be confident in the love that I knew was growing for me.
Three years passed. Slowly and surely, she snuck into his heart and made it her home. All he cared about was her, her wants, her needs. There was never any mention of my new outfit or tight body or freshly done hair or…my heart.
He had a new princess.
He left me again, this time with no explanation. "It's over", were his only words. But he stays around for her. It hurts so much to see how I have been moved out of the way, replaced by the one whose main purpose was to make him love me again.
But I don't complain. You see, it seems quite petty and selfish. I'd never want to let the world know that I've been defeated by someone who acts like another version of me; someone who looks just like me. We share the exact same eyes that, at one point in time, he could stare into for hours, and the exact same nose that he'd kiss before work every morning. I couldn't possibly end their relationship. I love her just as much.
She lived inside of me and we birthed her together. And now I see, that he will always love his daughter more than he could ever love me.
© HONEYchile Publishing 2006