What occurs when you leave pieces of yourself in someone else … and they leave?
It is a common thing to want to retrieve the pieces of you, that you once gave in good faith of it being treasured and protected. Cherished by the person whom you gave them too. But sometimes they leave and deny you them pieces, they take them and leave you unwholesome. Somewhat broken, incomplete. You have to accept the apology you never got and the truths that you were denied. It is a terrible fate to be incomplete and full of unanswered questions…. a wound that refuses to heal, despite the best nursing.
For the thousands of years of the human race we still cannot love. We only choose who we want to love dependant on how they make us feel. In Greece some months ago on a visit I was in a place of limbo. My feet were in Greece, my heart given to a man in Norway, and my mind flitting from paranoia and hurt, to hope and resurrection. The culture of Greece was beautiful the people kind and welcoming. One person in particular conjured something deep within me. Not for the way they washed me in compliments, as he didn’t, not for the way they desired me, which they never did show. Instead they watched me, from a far, from a safe distance. They watched the way people interacted with me, the way people were drawn to me, because I was just me, no mask, no pretence… just living in the moment. Yet this person was polite whenever they found themselves in mine and my daughters company. They become a friend, they saw me cry one day, as I wrote a blog. They stared concerned but darent not approach … and over coffee aromas and the Greek sun, we talked, we talked of love, of hurt, of life, and of all the different cultures and people.
They changed my perspective of specific things, things I never thought I could compromise upon. And we laughed, he laughed so well, so hard, we smiled, coy smiles. And we felt more than just the Greek sun when we were in each other’s company. My heart maybe wasn’t in Norway, maybe it was just burried. Maybe I burried it, to hide it, protect it.
He didn’t believe in a soul, and yet I saw his… and it was kind, and patience, it was intrigued and it was respectful. Upon my last day I spent it with him, we spent it skimming pebbles in the sea, having coffee and never telling each other how much we actually were drawn to one another. He said to me he didn’t want to say goodbye to me when I left. I understood, as goodbyes tear me apart too. He left for work at half past six and he came to say goodbye, he kept his distance, but I could not. I threw my arms around him and burried my head in his neck, I absorbed his smell. It was divine, I let the evening sun burn my shoulders as I felt my body pressed against his. His embrace was not firm or tight he didn’t want to embrace me. And I knew it was because if he did embrace me, he would have to let me go. I held back the choking of my tears. And let him go, I pushed him away and turned away from him. I didn’t see him leave…. but I felt it.
I lay on the lounger and saw everyone’s eyes upon me. The girl who showed no interest in none of the handsome men who wanted to lavish her with attention and affection… who sort all week for hers. And to all of them I she denied it, including the person whom I now wished would come back and embrace me. Tight.
Half hour passed by and my mind was torturing me…. my heart began to beat. I could feel it, but I dare not give it any attention.
He returned to the pool area, a mirage I thought, until I seen the blood on his shirt, his brow tight with anger. The blood droplets marbling his pale blue work shirt. He stared at me as he passed and said nothing, my concern and panic fixated on him behind my sunglasses. In secret, and in love. When he stood alone in the toilets, I approached and stood in the doorway, I asked him of his safety? And he told me of a accident he had with his bike. A panic and concern rose in me, but a lustful desire to taste him overpowered me. I walked towards him my feet bare and his eyes gave in to me…I stood infront of him and leant in… he grabbed me and thrust me up against the counter top… his hand grabbing at my thigh, raising my summerdress. I throbbed, I throbbed for him to kiss me harder and hurt me with passion and love.
He did, my back cracked up against the steel tap, and I enjoyed the pain and the lust. His hand on my thigh, his body pressed up against mine, nothing else existed apart from his lips on mine, and his desire, my desire. My spine was electrified, something I had not felt for years…. a kiss can ignite so much in someone. I kissed him and he kissed me back and I tasted my future.
The way he nursed the second syllable of my name like a dying lover as his heavy accent told me how he hated this kiss, was a goodbye kiss. In that drunken moment in despair and love, I promised to see him again. He left ten minutes late and my heart beat, not burried but firmly in my chest. The travel home was welcomed, but it was frought with tears and longing.
As a summer love affair dies, and ours never really started…we both thought the feelings would fade, the thoughts of one another would evaporate. And the missing and longing would be replaced. They haven’t …. they won’t. It is the first time in many many months I realise I had left pieces of me in my ex lover in Norway… but I had some pieces of my heart left, and I gave one away in Greece. I had unanswered questions and so many lies left from my ex lover in Norway…. but the guy from the Greek island of kos, answered them for me. I am enough, I am worthy of being faithful too….
maybe sometimes we focus on all the pieces that are missing from us, that we forget to see all the beautiful pieces we still have left. And that we have to be more careful who we give them too.
Fate brought me as a last minute to the island of kos. Fate brought me a friend someone to cross my path and show me something about the world and myself. And the universe brought him back to me so I could taste my future ….