by Maye Dellosa
Maybe you’re the guy who kisses his girlfriend so passionately, but refuses to take the bottom half of her clothes off. Not that there is no yearning, but out of respect. You look at her as if she was a work of art. So beautiful and alive, you’d give anything just for the feel of it. But perched above says the artworks can’t be touched. And you become a slave of your own emotions because she excites you. And she leaves you like that. Frayed. Unraveled.
Maybe you’re that guy who plants a kiss on her forehead and wraps her in a warm embrace as you tell her I’m sorry, it was never intended, I won’t do it again. I promise.
And then she smiles as a tear rolls down her cheek, but her smile gleams of pain and hope and longing.
Maybe you’re the guy who takes her out for dinner and pulls out his wallet before she even gets the chance to find hers in her black hole of a bag. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re not as traditional.
Maybe you will be that man who makes messy pancakes and sunny side up eggs in the morning, kissing your two little girls in each cheek as you send them off to school. They will be giggling, jumping up and down, squealing they love you. And they’ll call you daddy. Saying it with those big round eyes that make you feel glad you gave life to little princesses you can call your own.
Maybe. But I don’t really know you. We’ve only really talked a few times.
But every time I look at you I feel as if I’m remembering parts of you from another life. Like I’ve known you before. Like we used to share so much in common as we do now. Like inseparable best friends glued by years, and laughs and tears over failed relationships. Sometimes in my head I would wish I was the one beside you so I wouldn’t have to second guess. And if I just so much as touch you I might know. Sometimes I feel that way – like I want to pull you in an embrace so I would remember all the missing parts. But if I ever wrap myself around you, would you melt as if the sun has found a way to shine right into your soul or would you freeze as if your skin was a lake on a gloomy winter day?
They say there are lost soulmates. Those you can never be close enough to be with in reality, only in an alternate dimension you feel has existed. They could be lovers, they could be sisters, they could be friends. And I have to know, almost stranger, when you stared at me, wanting me to melt right where I was standing, and when you touched my back and I froze… is that what meeting your lost soulmate feels like?