“I love you with everything that I am,
but do you feel the same way?”
Nostalgia takes over these days, it seems. Memories of what was. Memories of the way your hand held mine. The way your lips felt, or the way my skin tingled when we made contact. I even remember the way you once looked at me. And though you say you still do, I fail to notice it. Maybe it’s because I’m blind to it. Or maybe, I don’t see it because deep down, I question if it was originally a figment of my imagination. And that’s when my mind begins to scatter. When I begin to wonder if those really days weren’t as magical as I thought they were. Or worse, that maybe when you say you love me, it isn’t, and possibly never was, as intense as I felt for you. And just like that, the nostalgia turns from those happy, early days, to something darker. Something I can’t bear to look at too closely, because then, my fears might be real after all. That I love you with everything that I am, but you don’t feel the same way in return.
© Sarah Doughty
I’m not sure I want
to know the answer.