And in that moment, that moment when I tasted her secrets from her forbidden cup…I was over you.
Flashback to the time my friend choked out “you never get over someone until you get under someone else.” and my youth and naivety told me, it was shallow. It was stupid. And it did more harm than good…but now, now I understand the subtext. And though I am sure this is what my friend meant, their perspective was self-indulgent and different…I was over you. It is within that moment when we lie in the chambers of another that we realize that we can have another. When you love so deep and build a tomorrow with someone; when that tomorrow is shattered, it’s like your being shatters. You cannot fathom someone greater and the warm embrace of others feels odd and unwelcome. Outings offered are greeted with eye rolls and neck popping because how can anyone fulfill you like you have been fulfilled? You become oblivious to advances and swept up the flaws of self. Even in your daydreams, you can’t think of anyone else. Yet, wrapped up in delicate linens…I was over you.
The memory of that person binds you, and the love that remains becomes your shackles. Those shackles become the fear of love that maybe you just aren’t good enough. Maybe they are the pinnacle love and it’s nothing but settling from here on out. With all these maybes that fill up your mind, you feel trapped. Hopeless. Kinda like you did the day they broke your heart. You are mess trying to repair; only can compare – what was to what’s there. Consumed with thoughts…I was over you.
But when you get that sweet release, it’s as though the shackles break. You only understand that moment. You only appreciate that person. You are only left with those thoughts. Your mind ventures beyond the mundane of the past and yearn to satisfy the future. Moans, groans, and shaking anatomies while my hand clutches the sheets soaked in our divine essences…I was over you! Under-somebody-else, over you!
