I wanted to kiss him in dreams once again, to feel him hesitate before tasting, the pressure of his lips equaling the pressure of him on my heart.
I wanted to hear him laugh once again, his smile hidden behind his hand, both as a boy and as a man, his happiness erasing all the tears I had cried the night before.
And I wanted him to sit across dark cafe tables from me again, with wide eyes and wild stories; for him to walk me to the crosswalk as the sun hit the scars on his knees; to laugh in ways I had long forgotten and had long been jealous of; to feel like myself for the first time in a place I could never call home.
So I waited in the same cafe chair for the longest summer, longing to sit across from him once again; replaying his voice, his laugh, and his happiness so I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep again. And when the afternoon had faded, I dragged myself to the crosswalk, my soles as heavy as my heart, knowing that I wouldn’t see him again unless it was in dreams.
But after the longest winter, even there, he left me.
Deidrea DeWitt
2.18.24