I remember a time before yours. Surely there was a time before you.
I had a life before I met you.
There was a time where I had music and poetry; when the rich, ripe lilt of the staccato of words entranced me and seduced me like the sweet call of the devil to sin. There was a time when I could flip my hair and air guitar to Nirvana, Kataklysm or even Lamb of God, grinding to the sickest riffs ever without batting an eyelash while my body resounded with the beats of the drums.
There was a time when I took comfort in the dark and welcomed the transition from the morning to the night, while the dying of the day brought me solace as I watched the shadows creep from the cracks and corners of their secret hiding places. There was a time when I held no fear for the dark despite the night terrors that haunted me in my dreams, and I welcomed the cold, vast space of an empty bed that I would have to warm myself.
There was a time before yours when I could be heartless and cruel. A time when I learned not to care. Because caring hurts and it was better to feel the cold desolation of being alone than allow someone to hurt me in way I could never imagine.
I had a life before I crashed into you and plummeted head first into the endless spiral of self-destruction. I had a pretty decent life before I met you and tasted the sugar-coated acrid flavor of Love.
Meeting you has changed all that.
I no longer swim with the freshness of words, taking joy as they flow through my tongue and escape from my lips. Instead, I find myself at a loss of words. Grasping at the illusion of articulating anything halfway coherent or even halfway close to what I want to tell you. Words have been reduced to feeble vehicles to convey something incomprehensible as I try to express how I feel about you and I find it frustrating that my loose lips are caught at a standstill when I think of you and what I want to say while my heart flutters in tiny little beats replacing my music with a haunting and a dull ache while the words of Jukebox the Ghost or Noah and the Whale haunt me.
I feel the sadness as every day ends. I find the end of every day more and more daunting. The need to reach out to you is nearly impossible to fight. My confidence fails me in the dark. I need to feel your fingers intertwined in mine and your soft breaths tickling the hairs of my nape. The need to feel your warmth next to me feels like a physiologic pull and as I crawl into your welcoming arms allowing the world to slowly melt away knowing I am safe with you and in your arms, I drift off into peaceful sleep, the first time it has ever happened to me.
It always feels like you brought me sunshine. You came into my life with your warmth and your smile and that damn laugh of yours that is just so fucking contagious. I tried to keep you at bay. I knew I wasn’t good for you. I’m not good for anyone actually. But I was always drawn back to you, curiosity always getting the better of me, corrupting my thoughts and my will with “what-ifs”. I was always drawn back to you and that Goddamn smile you always had, saved especially for me.
I was pulled by the lull of the words that escaped your mouth and the ideas that were born from your mind. I was dragged into the creamy richness of your voice and you gave me poetry and music when I thought I had lost them.
You are a fucking mind reader, I swear to God. You always know what I’m thinking and what I want and it surprises me more than half the time that you know me so well. You know just when to run your hands through my hair, or when to take my hands to your lips to give them a quick kiss, or when you wake up in the middle of the night to kiss my forehead before you fall back to sleep probably not knowing I’m up.
You, Elmer, are fucking perfect. I love you so much and sometimes it scares me knowing I have so much love to give you I don’t know what to do with it.
3 years is just the beginning. Happy Anniversary Sweetie! I’ll see you soon.