Piece of You
I realized that the extent of all my prior desires was so minuscule when I met you. Never had I wanted anything more than I wanted to taste you, sweetness at the tip of my tongue. I fell so in love with your words that I wanted to hear you say vows standing in front of me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about us buying a home and kissing you goodnight and watching the curve of your wrist as you skipped rocks into the river. I wanted you, I wanted peace, and these things are mutually exclusive yet I couldn’t stop dreaming. I chose a piece of you and called it a compromise. To me, the sun is a synonym for happiness, so by that logic, you became my sun, even though I knew it wouldn’t be long before the sky turned black. I still reached out for you in the darkness. I needed you to kiss me even though it would make me miss you more, but at least then I’d know what I had to mourn. It wasn’t a sin to want something to myself, yet I felt like I was in Hell knowing you didn’t want me anymore. I thought long and hard about the concept of regret, and whether I regretted loving you. I decided I didn’t. I burned at the cross for you, and ended up freeing myself.
Alexandra Henriques is a young writer from the Garden State, though she is currently an undergraduate student at George Mason University in Virginia, where she studies journalism and creative writing. She enjoys long walks, college radio, and loving too hard. She can be found at @wisteria_mp3 on Instagram.
