I love a man who has forgotten his love for me.

I love a man who has forgotten his love for me.

A Poem by Undercore

He’s changed so much. His hair is shorter, his eyes are tired, his hands are rough and his face has begun to age. He walks more certainty, he reaches out to people with a gentle hand. Far gentler than he had ever touched me. 


I watch him exist in a space I don’t belong to with people I don’t know. He kisses another man and shares laughter with children, his children. His smile is the same, but it is no longer directed at me. 


He tenses up when he notices my presence, the casual air that surrounds him freezes when I am near. His eyes don’t show recognition when he looks at me, just a weariness and guilt. No warmth, no trust.


It hurts. I long for how we used to move, absent-minded touches, gentle smiles and youthful laughter. He used to love me, card his hand through my hair, lean against my chest. He used to trust me, easily sliding into my embrace. He faced the world at my side, holding my hand. Nothing could touch us. 


He regrets it. I can tell, the guilt weighs on him. He can’t look at me at times, eyes sliding to my neck and then flinching away again. I hate it. I should hate him, but how can I when I’ve spent years trying to return to him? When I gave up everything to come back to him?


I should despise him. He’s moved on, he’s happy. I can’t though. I am weak and I want him. I’ve always wanted him. Perfect little angel boy, too brash, too loud, too much.


 He’s changed so much though, calmed down. He still has that lazy smile, the confident smirk- knows he’s untouchable and teases and bickers with his husband. But he’s a father now, a husband. A grandfather. He dotes on his children and gently squeezes the man’s hand in passing. He sits at his desk for hours, sorting through research papers and student essays. He leans against the wall, staring out of the window as he sips his 3rd cup of tea in the evening, needing less sleep and refusing to rest for the luxury itself.


 It’s so different from how he used to roam through the city streets with the other kids, pestering people and going off to explore the desert. He used to grab my hand and race with me across rooftops, used to invite me to dinner at his family’s house so that I didn’t have to go back home. He used to braid my hair, complaining about how it was a tangled mess and I should get it cut. He used to get told off by his mom for causing a scene on the streets and then climb out in the evening to steal sweets from the temple with me. 


I love him. He’s changed so much but I still love him, I want to meet him again. Relearn him, explore his body with its new scars, his mind with its new memories, his soul with its age. I want him to remember me.


But he will barely look at me, he clings to a new man. His lazy smiles don’t belong to me, his I-love-you-s aren’t directed at me anymore. I’m a stranger to him, an intruder. Despite our bond, despite our history, he doesn’t want me anymore.


It hurts to love a man who doesn’t want to love me back.

© 2019 Undercore


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Added on July 25, 2019
Last Updated on July 25, 2019
Tags: love, man, lost, moving on, ex