Precious, crystalline heartbreak.
At school I would let you come closer than anyone; just a little over the half way that was fair. You would push a gentle shoulder into mine, your body big, soft and warm next to me.
I liked that I never had to explain myself to you. I didn’t have to win you round or impress you. Actually, I didn’t need to speak to you at all. You gave what I needed from you without asking.
As the clock ticked by and we sat there, I felt like you were really with me. I could always feel your warmth towards me. Although I didn’t know why it was there or what I could have done to inspire it, I was altogether certain it existed at a time when a lot of things felt uncertain to me. That was very comforting. I knew that it was doing me good to be next to you. You were straightforward and gentle...you smiled kindly and often. And you were that way whether I thought I deserved it or not. Whether I leaned back into you too, or whether I put my pencil-case between us, you didn’t change. You were some kind of salve for my wounds.
The first time I realised what you were to me was one day when you simply weren't there: I realised I could still feel you in my body; the shape of you was still next to me like a spectre. The feeling made me heady. After that day, when I was alone, I would stretch out my arms and somehow conjure you up in the space around me. Thinking of you would make the stillness in the air change, it was bitter-sweet and addictive to draw you near and yet not hold you there. Oddly, I didn't get to miss you exactly. The thoughts of you made me float above my troubles. I didn’t get dragged down with worrying about you because you were most-days right by my side. It made me almost feel alive...on the brink of happiness...nearly tipped over...not enough to be true to it, but enough to keep coming back...sometimes hovering in it.
I think it was summer, close to the end of term exams. We were lined up against a vast brick wall...all waiting to be called into an assembly. I was looking at you, as you were looking away. At times when you spoke you kept closing your eyes, maybe for a beat too long, pushing me into looking at you more. Your eyelashes were twitching under my downward gaze. Without thinking, I ran my fingers through your hair...you reached up, brushed my hand away and let it drop...It was a gentle sting that lingered. It became a line in the sand between us. That moment meant whatever it was that went unsaid between us was over. Although we were standing surrounded by so many others, they hadn't noticed the tiny heartbreak. Somehow, that made the moment crystalline: I carried it with me. Now I had stopped touching...I tried hard to stop looking too. I focused on feeling fine. I welcomed a mundane existence or I went only wherever I could go without being seen...and foolishly, I never got braver with anyone else than in that moment with you.
I didn’t speak to you about it. There were no words....no words with no knives in them. Well, we didn't really speak much anyway. I knew I had a way of talking too much with some people. I often overthought things, but you were entirely different. With you, there was no misunderstanding to clear up. You were still just hanging around saying nothing. There was an ever-present softness in your eyes, always a little smile twitching in the corner of your mouth that I couldn’t fathom. You had said nothing to anyone. I told no-one about it too. I guess not speaking to them was another lesson you taught me. I still cherished you because whatever else you might be, you were never unkind to me. Perhaps it is because you were never mine, I was able to remember you this way.
