The thing he missed the most were the freckles on her skin.
After all these months, it was hard to imagine how intimate it felt to explore every inch of her skin that she hid so often under his oversized shirts. He could read her body like a map and loved how she always stole his clothes to try and get him lost, looking desirable in his ragged up pants while he numbed her with kisses so she forgot to hide from him.
That was years ago and although the bigger picture had faded, the details clung to his mind,desperately battering against his brain so he would remember them.
He could never really understand her but he believed he had never stopped trying.
Not when she ran away in the middle of the night, leaving her sweet scent behind but no explanation. No when she didn’t show up to meet his parents, or when she lied about being just fine when he had just seen her cry.
How do you love someone who doesn’t love herself?
When he called her beautiful, she wouldn’t listen. When he told her the world could be at her feet, she turned around to escape his plea. Escape her dreams.
Begging made no difference, begging her to see what he saw. The light that she brought to every room she entered, the words she spoke that could silence an entire crowd. He was in love with a blind woman. A deaf woman. A woman feeling ashamed. A woman not realizing she could change the world.
A woman not loving herself.
It was obvious she would leave for good one day. But even after she did, he never stopped hoping she would be on his doorsteps again one day. Full of change, full op hope, full of strength. Saying nothing at all, just nodding, as to say: “you were right, I am special.”
He would hold her close to him, trace his fingers across her delicate face and nod right back.
He would understand. Because what can you do when you love someone who doesn’t love herself?