No, I never dated him.
Most days,
I’m glad I didn’t.
On the day I met him, our workplace
was losing power
The lights were flickering in a futile attempt
to regain their luminosity,
Just as I was making a futile effort to engage
in small talk.
The conversation was laden with shyness
and expectations.
Another voice filled in the holes that we
didn’t know how to fill.
On the second day I saw him,
There was no other voice to fill the holes
he left vacant,
So I filled them myself.
And that was the day he became the moon.
He was as unobtainable as it,
But that never stopped me from trying.
I would drag my nets across the reflection he put down for me.
The reflection he cast over the ocean of my doubts and insecurities.
He was the moon and I was merely a stargazer,
But he made me feel as if I was meant to be
the sun,
Destined to forever chase after him in the sky until we collided in that perfect eclipse.
I was never a romantic before him,
But on the night that he held me in his arms
And stood so close I could feel his breath
across my cheeks,
An empty parking lot had never seemed
so beautiful.
He made me feel like I was beautiful.
But I was not beautiful, like an empty parking lot,
Empty parking lots were never meant
to be beautiful.
The day he decided I was no longer his sun was the day I was violently torn from the sky.
I shattered his reflection as I was plunged back into the icy ocean of my insecurities.
The water filled my lungs and the scars
he had once mended tore open.
I was left bloody and alone and as empty
on the inside as the parking lot
That became the graveyard of his affections.
No. I never dated him.
But some days,
I wish I had.