An Open Letter To A Destructive Lover

    I remember the first time we met, there was a sparkle in your eye, and those rich brown eyes had me enticed.

     

     I remember our first date; you showed me beauty in the city I had known growing up across the river in Jersey.

     

     I remember taking you to Hooters, it was your first time, and I insisted that you eat the wings- as we looked at the servers in awe of their beauty, remember the blonde twins you took a photo with?

     

     I remember going to your apartment, my first time in Harlem, and five stories up; I thought the staircase would never end.

     I remember the first time we kissed, we were watching “A New Day” by Celine Dion, your lips made me melt, I swear I felt fireworks soaring into the night sky.

     I remember thinking we wasted no time getting intimate, but we were caught up in the moment, I couldn’t foresee the crash waiting ahead of me.

     I remember the first time you cooked for me; you were the first guy to ever do so, I felt special.

     I remember you cooked breakfast and we were listening to Sara Bareilles’ latest album, I didn’t know it then, but the song, “Breathe Again” would become the number one played song on my iTunes.

     I remember the first time I made you upset, I had said something negative about Beyonce, as we were laying out in Central Park, and you walked away from me for a few minutes to cool off.

     I remember watching the film, which inspired your tattoo; I began to understand the symbolism, why you decided to mark it on your body.

     I remember getting a phone call sharing exciting news, you had booked your first major show, I was beyond excited for you—your dreams were taking shape, becoming a reality.

     I remember you being the first man I ever let kiss me with morning breath. You had pushed me outside my comfort zone; you brought me to a place of intimacy that I had never experienced before.     

     I remember you making my 20^th birthday so special. You walked out of the bus with flowers in your hand; you were the first man to bring me flowers for my birthday. You blended in with my friends and my sister instantly adored you.

     I remember the night that changed everything, I still shutter at the thought of that night, and it left a big impression on me.

     I remember we were both drunk, it was the end of May, a time that is the most difficult for you.

      I remember we had an amazing night out, returning back to your place in Harlem to cuddle, to sleep, or so I thought.

     I remember you breaking down, tears were falling and you were speaking such nonsense. You threw yourself towards the window and threatened to jump out, I held onto you for dear life.

     I remember the morning after, I had spent the night crying, woke up with my eyes swollen. I prepared to leave as you were in the shower with no intention of saying goodbye. You stopped me and apologized, you hugged me but I didn’t hug back. I walked down the street of Harlem alone for the first time and craved for my bed, which was waiting for me in Jersey.

     I remember when we decided we wouldn’t see each other, I remember feeling so stupid, how could I had been taken for such a ride and not think there was a crash waiting for me?

     I remember the first time I was reminded of that horrible night. I was watching the film, “The Hours” and there was a scene where the man jumps out the window of a New York City apartment and I instantly thought of you, of that night. I broke down in tears; my professor didn’t know what triggered it.

     I remember calling you after class and leaving you a voicemail letting you know I saw the film and was thinking of you.

     I remember the first time we spoke while you were on tour, I had forgiven you for that night, and we spoke for about thirty minutes. We would every so often chat, keeping in touch.

     I remember sitting in therapy talking about you to my therapist, a year later, the impression you left on me was still apparent.

     I remember telling her that I didn’t think you were one to work backwards, that once something ended, you were done with it, done with me.

     I remember the conversations we had leading up to my big move out West. You told me you would be home for the summer; the universe had made it so our paths would cross again. I was excited yet super nervous, two whole years passed us by, you and I were different people now.

     I remember getting ready for our reunion. I was nervous about seeing you again; I wasn’t sure how it would go. I saw you sitting at the café and hugging you for the first time made my heart race, finally we were face to face.

     I remember thinking to myself how attractive I found you; I had forgotten how you physically turned me on. Our lips met, a peck, a friendly hello. You took me to a vegan soul food place, it was then that I realized I trust you enough to have fried tofu; it was surprisingly good, hell I actually liked it.

     I remember we spoke about that night in Harlem, we had both apologized, and it was finally behind us.

     I remember you took me to your hideaway place, you showed me around your hometown, and I was getting to see the place that shaped you into the person you had become.

     I remember writing my first poem since arriving in California, you inspired it, it represented the kind of relationship we had, the in between.

     I remember spending a lot of time with you, more than I think either one of us expected to; this was our second chance, or so I thought.

     I remember the first night I slept over your place, you wrapped your arms around me, I wasn’t ready for that embrace; you told me you only wanted to be friends. I struggled to keep control; it was the first sign that this summer wasn’t going to go as I hoped.

     I remember the difficult conversation we had over dinner a few days after. A college mentor of mine died and you were sitting across from me, I felt shame, like such an awful friend. We spoke our truths, you attempted to teach me that there’s different ways of loving someone. That you could only love me this way, it was up to me to accept that love.

     I remember the first time you came to my new place, once I finally got furniture. We were being silly, splashing water on one another, throwing pie, teasing one another, we laughed.  We sat outside my balcony, looking out at the sunset, drinking our wine. I desperately wanted to be held in your arms. Random music was playing, it felt like the universe was having our conversation through song, or so that’s what you made reference too. In that moment we were in a musical, with my back towards you I tried to hide the tears that fell.

     I remember getting cold, so we came inside from the balcony and we talked. You talked about your former lovers, we both got emotional, and I laid my head on your chest because I wanted to feel your heartbeat.

     I remember asking you to stay, but you insisted you couldn’t, you asked me to stand up and we danced to “Breathe Again”, you held me tight against your chest, I struggled to catch my breath. I walked you out and looked as you disappeared into the darkness of the night.  

     I remember after you left I found myself being an emotional wreck; I was convinced I needed a break from you. We spoke about it for nearly two hours, remember, you made one thing clear to me, I wasn’t wanted despite how much we cared for each other, I wasn’t wanted.

     I remember we went six days without seeing one another, but Pride celebration arrived and I had decided it was better to be in your life in some way than not at all. I put my pride aside and we spent the majority of the day together.

     I remember sleeping over your home for the second time but I was determined not to repeat my mistakes. I attempted to sleep on the floor but my messed up knee was having none of it. I crawled into your bed and kept my arms tightly to my side, barely moving.

     I remember days going by and me making an effort not to be overbearing, not making much contact with you since Pride.

     I remember waking up from my dream, figured it was a sign from the universe that I should say hello to you, so I did. Then you invited me to your home for a BBQ; I was nervous but was looking forward to getting to know your family, the people who helped raise you into the wonderful man that you have become.

     I remember dancing for your family, we were all performing for each other and I literally transcended time and space, for those minutes I had somehow reached a different level, losing myself completely in the movement.

     I remember gasping for air and greeting you in your room with a hug, I felt so alive, dance made me feel so alive.

     I remember us sitting outside your steps, you were sharing more of your life, of the music that inspires you, I found myself comforting you as your emotions began to overcome you.

     I remember how beautiful I thought you looked as you cried, how beautiful it was to see you so exposed, vulnerable, and transparent.

     I remember we decided it was probably best if I spent the night, maybe it was all of the alcohol but something felt different this time around. We watched a foreign film and we cuddled, you put your arm around me, our hands interlocked, suddenly we began to talk about our experiences.

     I remember we got emotional; we are such emotional creatures, you and I. Seeing the tears run down your face, I attempted to wipe your face, I gave you a kiss on your cheek to comfort you. Then you shifted your head, our lips met, and then they met some more.

     I remember my heart racing, I remember you asking if this was a good idea, I replied, “be free, live in the moment”—that was something you were trying to teach me to do. We kissed some more, as our hands began to grab hold of one another, it was another example of the in between.

     I remember thinking to myself that I never wanted the night to come to an end, both of our bodies, exposed, next to each other, nothing about it felt wrong to me, nothing.

     I remember the next day feeling myself riding on an emotional roller coaster, you had spent weeks keeping me away, I wasn’t wanted the same way I wanted you but somehow we both let our guard down. We allowed ourselves to be in the moment.

     I remember wanting to do something special for your birthday, maybe it was just another one of my silly fairy tale fantasies. You shot it down, you were going through some stuff and I was the easiest target. I felt defeated; I was just trying to do something special.

     

    I remember thinking to myself that maybe I made a mistake by allowing us to get intimate in the physical sense, maybe that was too much for you, maybe that made you fearful.

     I remember downing two bottles of wine because I wanted to numb the way I had been feeling; I was mad at myself for caring for someone who wasn’t willing to fully embrace and accept that affection.

     I remember seeing you at the café where I first met you, I remember feeling awkward as I was surrounded by my friends, I bought you a glass of wine for your birthday because I felt like that was the least I could do.

     I remember talking to you outside, we attempted to talk about the situation but it seemed so surface based, I don’t think we were saying exactly what was on our minds.

     I remember later that night we crossed the line. 

Yelling at one another in public, I had became my mother, you called me a motherfucker, and in that moment I knew we had said too much, there was no taking it back.

     I remember finally getting home, with my knee in pain, I rushed to my room and broke down in tears. It was another tragic ending, I was hurt and furious—calling someone out of their name to me is the biggest sign of disrespect and I knew once we began to cross that line, we were blurring the boundaries.

     I remember waking up the next day and trying to make the most of my emotions, trying to go on with my day because there was plenty to be happy about, I was going to see a friend again, I was determined not to let last night bring me to a new low.

     I remember texting you for your birthday, I was debating whether or not I should still attend your celebration, I wasn’t even sure if you would still want me to attend.

     I remember asking the universe for a sign, twenty minutes later my friend called and asked me if I wanted them to come visit me or if I wanted us to go out somewhere. They too were invited to your birthday celebration.

     I remember calling you to see if the invitation was still standing, a part of me expected to hear “no” but you said “yes”. There was a lot of anxiety on my part as I headed over to your place.

     I remember, as I was getting ready to leave, pulling you aside and we apologized. You thanked me for coming, for being the one to call to see if I still could. We hugged and I felt closure.

     I remember the last time we said goodbye to each other as I prepared to leave the Bay and return to my life in Jersey. You would stay behind a bit longer before returning to The City. I cried hysterically because a part of me thought I’d never see you again.

     I remember the last time I saw you before you prepared to hit the road, another tour, another aspect of your dream realized. It was simple, it was easy, I hugged you goodbye and wished you well. From East to West and then East again, you were my destructive lover, a type of soul mate Liz Gilbert describes in “Eat, Pray, Love”—you destroyed my walls, shook me at my core, and broke my heart open so new light can get in.  

     I am writing you this open letter my love because I want you to always remember how you shaped me, how your life impacted mine, and why you will always be special in my life.

     As we prepare for our lives to take us on different roads again, I reflect back on the time we have spent together and I am truly thankful. The laughs, the tears, the joy, and the sorrow—you are special and you are lovable, even if you don’t always think you are deserving of it.

     I want to thank you for giving me hope, for reminding me that I am special, that I am worthy of being loved, and that my big personality is still lovable, even if it can be overbearing at times.

      Thank you for waking me up, for shaking me, for breaking down my guard, for pushing me out of my comfort zone, for challenging me to think deeper than the surface.

     You said this isn’t the end, which may very well be true but who knows what the future holds. If our paths meet again, I will be thankful for that, if they don’t, I will always have these memories, I will always remember you, I will always have love for you, and I hope that there will be a piece of you that will remember me too, even after I’m gone, even after our memories begin to escape us.