Vera Smekalina
Aug 26, 2017 · 2 min read
Love’s endless imperfections

I miss your ability to surprise me with your love. I remember how every time our eyes met I would feel an instant connection, almost an understanding. Your eyes are what I love. Those eyes that seemed to seep into my soul. Those eyes that wouldn’t have to tell me they loved me but just looking at them made me feel secure. You were so good at that, loving me silently. There was never a need for loud proclamations of love. It was just the way your eyes would hold mine. Or the way your hand would brush mine when we walked. Or the way we could sit right next to each other, not touching, but feel more connected than ever before.

It was a simpler time when it was that easy, when everything came so easy for us. But times changed and those simple moments faded. Now your eyes no longer made me feel secure. Your eyes left me wanting. Wanting your affection. Wanting you appreciation. Wanting something that wasn’t there anymore. I saw with everyday how your eyes would fade from me, no longer holding that same love. I would ask and ask and ask what I had done, what had happened, yet you would never respond only saying, “I love you. Don’t you see that?” But I didn’t see it. No not anymore. I didn’t see your eyes anymore, I only saw a void of where your love for me used to be.

I soon turned to blaming myself for it all. Pulling myself down into a pit of sadness and despair and fear. Fear of losing our love that I had so long been dependent upon. How could I survive without you and our quiet moments of peace? How? I tried everything to fix us, everything. Slowly hope began to die and I saw what we had become. A caustic pair wearing away at each others happiness. How could someone who made me so happy now make me feel crushed inside. I could never understand and I will never understand what happened to your eyes. I began missing being able to give my love to someone who wanted it. I wanted to give you my love. I wanted to drown you in it. But you wouldn’t take, you would turn back and run from it. Yet every night you would come home and kiss me and sit down with me in bed and tell me five times how much you loved me, no matter what. I still don’t know if you really mean it, but I am still too afraid to lose you. I would be lost without you. So here I sit waiting for you to come home and tell me you love me, five times over.

All’s well, Vera

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Vera Smekalina

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I’m too confused to make sense of anything