...That's how it's felt lately. Lost. As much as I try to distract, drown myself in anything else, everything else, I can't not think of him. Yesterday he called and asked if he could stop by to get his luggage. He leaves for Vegas tomorrow morning. I said he could. Within 15-20 minutes he was here. He took his luggage, all his laundry and some clean clothes. So that meant, more of this things were departing. He stayed and played with Jaiden a little but somehow wanted to dedicate more of his time being next to me. Whenever he's here, I try to hang back, so that she can be with him. Because I know she misses him so much, like I do. And she's happy when he's here and upset when he's leaving.
The last few times he's been here we've been close but not close as he wanted. It always left him wanting more, wishing it was further, within he could 'rip my clothes off' or his words would be enticing of me to take advantage of him, molest him. But I'd not give in aside from the touches that I too craved, the deep kisses that we shared. If nothing else the kisses left me weak in the knees. As much as our touches roved and taunted, our attire stayed in tact and my heart didn't cry.
I'd never say how I missed him or wanted him or loved him anymore.
Because I need him to come to that realization first.
He has to miss me first.
Want me first. And act on it. First.
Love me first.
My embraces couldn't be more loudly of how my heart felt. I adored him still. A caress on his cheek, fingers lacing through the length of his hair.
Touching him as if I was afraid to scare him off yet letting him know just how deeply I still felt about him.
He never speaks about moving. Yet I know it is something that will happen because our discussions about money involves him saying he can't pay two rents.
And I accepted that he'll move into his own place.
I miss him so much it leaves me sore. But I don't cry anymore. I won't let myself.
I keep telling myself I didn't do anything to make him leave.
And as much as I yearn to hear his voice, I won't call. I won't text.
His presence, his actions, his kisses says he misses me.
And my refusal to go beyond a scathing touch past his belly button without outwardly saying "No." tells him I'm respecting myself and his space. I love you but I'll wait for you to come to me.
Something had happened and we were talking while he was here and my reply was "It's not going anywhere, it's here when you're ready"...referring to my body.
When he speaks of himself he lets me know no one else wants him ...there's no list of women..no line of females beating down his door for him. But I know better. He'd never admit if there was.
Maybe his advances are just that of someone lonely. And unable to take that which he's comfortable with and familiar to. But I won't let him use me for his own male satisfaction. If he wants sex, and he's bent on having it, yet knowing I won't just give in, he'll venture out to someone who he knows will give in to him.
I looked at him yesterday as he rested in my lap. His face, his flesh, aged, soft...but overly so. Wrinkles had multiplied. But his eyes...like marble in the light. Not that bright baby blue that they usually are, which usually diminishes with his mood or what he wears, but he had the strongest marble blue with those dark speckles ...I felt like I loved him all over again as I stared into them.
And he stared back at me. I wanted to say, as I have in the past .."Staring isn't polite.." but I didn't. I drank it in. I wanted him to look at me. REALLY look at me. And see the honest emotion in my eyes. If he had was besides me. I couldn't tell.
I'm reminded of one of the main characters of a book I'd just started reading. My brother and his girlfriend bought me the trilogy (with a 4th book coming out in a month or so that I MUST HAVE) for Christmas last year and being that I never found...not had, but never FOUND the time to read before, and have now..it amazes me ...the love he has for her...my god...so depth-ed. Like mine. He's the male version of me. But I lack the patience he has. He has my anger, my passion, my rage, my commitment. He. Chose. Her. And he gave her the space ..to choose him. And once she had, oh, they were inseparable.
I want to be loved so completely.
And the way she admired him, his heart, his soul, his body..she would love him that way for decades to come.
Reading further has made me miss him more. But ...I'm steadfast in holding onto hoping he'll come around on his own. And that I just need to stay away.
And while giving him that space, if I miss him, I'll write about it til I don't need to any longer. Be it because he never came back..or he found his way to me.
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