I want to spend October with you, because it’s
my favorite month and happens during my
favorite season. I wish we could aimlessly
walk around a forest and with each leaf that
falls from the branches above, we fall a little
more for each other too. While hand in hand
we can crave the smell of warm coffee and
cinnamon muffins on a chilly morning, we
could feel the autumn breeze brush against
our skin and the goose bumps we get, we
won’t be able to tell if it’s from touching each
other’s skin or from the wind being too cool.
When we lay in bed you’d have the hardest
time moving an inch away from me, because
I’d want to be skin to skin every minute.
These lonely summer nights without you make
me crave the fall, and crave the season of
death in the hopes that maybe this loneliness
would die too, and you’d appear by my side.
I can’t tell if I love the night too dearly, or
hate it too passionately. I think I’d adore
it if I got to sleep next to you every evening,
and I think that I’d enjoy the sunset more
watching it hit your face than actually
seeing it say goodnight. I just crave to
spend time with you, I do.
I think you really are in love with someone when you no longer think of them when your head hits the pillow. Those months when you’re falling in love, you fantasize about his lips and the way her hands feel after a long day. But once you’re certain, that person just becomes inevitable. And you return to thinking about tests and grocery lists, and you simply know they will be there to remind you to study and whether or not you need to buy eggs.
Here’s the thing, men have to also mature in how they see women, too. Because they need to understand that it’s not just about how we look, it’s about who we are. And I am going to tell you like this, ‘If you can’t love me with short hair, and you telling me I got to have long hair to be loved, guess what, I ain’t the one for you.’
I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.