I traced the calluses on your hand like they were roadmaps leading me home. I always knew I was a mess- I stared at your sleeping expression and wondered what made you stay. You were breathing in and out softly, inhaling and exhaling with a soft rhythm, and I cherished every moment. I won’t forget this intimacy we shared even if I contracted dementia, even then I knew I would remember this moment.
Deep down in my heart, I’m still scared that one day you’d just walk out the door and leaving me without any explanation. I’ve always been scared of love fading- always scared that things won’t stay as resilient as they are now. I’d trade any vital organ I have if it means we’d be this blissful forever. I feel sorry for you because I know I shouldn’t be feeling like this- in your waking moments you always shower me with love that if love was not a metaphorical subject I know I’d be wading in a sea of your affection for me.
With my right hand, I held it against your cheek and it felt warm against my cold palm. I stared at your features, the ones you described as “fine art” that you chided with me to admire. I always laughed you off at it, but admiring your face when you’re asleep has become a habit now.
I could now differentiate my fears, between scared of love or scared of letting it become unreturned, and the one I fear the most is the latter. I’m hooked to your love like it’s an iv stuck deep in my vein- and I know I’d be incomplete if in any way this connection is severed.
With you, I become the best me that me could be.