When He Walked Away

When he walked away the world froze.
Six years of devotion, idolizing, and pursuit all directed towards a tall, lean body.
When he walked away the world froze.
Six years of twisting the knives in my heart, waiting and praying that he would feel the same.
When he walked away the world froze.
Six years of following, listening, and lending my shoulder.
When he walked away the world froze.
Six years ago I was broken. I needed the love he'd so freely given.

When he walked away the world died.
Six years I'd tried to express the desires my heart had grown for him.
When he walked away the world died.
Six years I begged him to feel the same about me. But he could not, would not.

When he walked away I died.
Six years crumbled in my hands, and blew away in the wind. Nothing but fine grains of what used to be the relationship I had with my best friend.

When he walked away I learned.
Six years of loyal companionship is nothing if the heart is always elsewhere when joined with yours.
When he walked away I learned.
Six years means nothing to the man who looks down at you, as if you're merely dust beneath his fingernails.
When he walked away I learned.
Six years of memories will haunt you for six more years. Life and love is relative, I've learned. As long as it lasts, will the as long as it will hurt to recover. My heart is broken, and will be broken for years to come.

Unless. Unless another heart joins mine. And together we will be one, and wondrous. This heart shall be different. For when he walked away, I understood. I understand now that for love to blossom, their fingers must be threaded with my own, never holding. But bound between your fingers, tied with you just as tight and strong as yours in return.

When he walked away I learned that a man is not a man unless he does what is right. I forgive him for abandoning me. For I was not ready for the fire that burned for him in my heart.
When he walked away I learned that a man is not a man unless mutual respect is given to the exposed, vulnerable soul before him. Caress, embrace, and gently lower the dying heart to the ground, whispering soft affections while you prepare your exit.

The pain will endure. It always will. But the heart he breaks will remember the gentle warmth of the embrace, and the soft death of the relationship. Not the agonizing, torturous pain of crumbling the bleeding heart and throwing it in the dirt.

When he walked away I learned that what I can give is more than he will ever be able to offer a lover.
Six years of pain, and I'm healing.