We had a chance.
You said there was nobody home so I dropped by. We had dinner and talked about things. Things that matter except us.
We laughed, talked, and I wondered.
I wondered why you never fought. Wondered why you did not decide rightfully. Most importantly, wondered what the heck am I doing here.
Maybe I was lonely. Maybe subliminally, I wanted to fuck. Not to make love because that would be ironic. Or maybe I wanted to talk, to sort us out, or be a friend. I don’t know.
I told you to turn on the television. I surf channels like it was my own house. (Like how it were before). A wonderful movie is up, the one I always wanted to watch but was busy making time for him. All my time for him.
You kept on talking and it annoys me. I really like this movie, dude; I want to tell you. Then you spilled it out.
“I miss you,
do you miss me?”‘
Oh boy, he’s starting.
You reached for my hand. I let it stay there. Trying to think what I’m feeling, what I should feel, or if I’m actually feeling anything at all.
“That’s a nice ring. What does it mean?”
“A symbol. My heart is tied..”
“Tied to whom? To him? Tied to him still?”
I wanted to say yes. And if you looked into my eyes, you’d see. But instead, I held my head down and answered, “To me, of course. Who else..”
Maybe you knew.
You squeezed my hand, I almost jumped.
“Come on”, you said.
“Let’s go to my room.”
I hesitated. “No.”
“Why?”. Now with pleading eyes.
”No. I came here to talk.”
”We will be quiet. no one will hear.”
your grip now hurting me. You’re pulling me to your room. God, how badly you want it.
“You’re hurting me!”, I stood up and pushed your hand away. I got myself a drink as I thought this was a mistake.
I came back to my seat and you held my hand again. But I pushed it away.
“What’s the problem?”
“I just feel awkward.” (I don’t know you anymore.)
“What’s to feel awkward?”
“I don’t know. It’s so sudden.” (You’re a stranger now.)
“Don’t you want to do it here?”
“Maybe.” (Its just lust now. I can feel it)
“Please?”, gripping me tight again.
“No. I need to go to the bathroom.” I stood up.
Hell. Its not you anymore. I still love you but things change. People change.
What we had was real. I loved you before us, during our time, and even after that. I still love you but not like before.
It was the most realistic love. No childish romance. No babe, darling, dear, honey, or other sweet names I used on my other relationships. We had bittersweet arguments but it was okay. A little touch, a little smile, a little kiss and everything is okay. It was the most mature love. the most real. And we did not do it (maybe that’s why you want it now). Afraid that we’d lose control.
I got out of the loo. “I have to go.”
“You can go later. Its still early”, and reached for my hand.
“No. I still have work tomorrow. I should be in bed at this hour. Thank you for the dinner.” I grabbed my bag.
“Oh, come on. You can go later”, gripping harder for the third time. I yanked it free and reached for the door.
“You’re street are a bit dangerous. Won’t you walk me?”, I said to lighten things up.
You laughed mockingly. “Come here. I won’t walk you until later.”
I slammed the door. “OK”, and walked away. Fuck you.
As I walked the dim streets, I could feel my phone vibrate. I won’t see your text until I reach home.
And I realized, I’m not as low as what he always tell me. Ironic, he’s the one cheating a hundred times behind my back and I’m the bitch because I see one guy after we broke up. Pathetic.
I’m not that low. I won’t be begging for fuck just because I’m feeling lonely. NO. I’m not as low as him, as low as you, as low as everybody else.
We had a chance but you thought otherwise. You choose her; no hope, no sure feelings, yet you chose her over me. Me who loved you, accepted you, and was always there even when you had nothing.
You had a chance like he did.
Now I’ll have mine.