Here, There and Everywhere: A letter to my Ben

You are a lover that I cannot love. You are a lover that I do not want to love. Which, that statement itself confuses even myself. To a point, and to an outside perspective, there is no doubt that I do have love for you. But to me, the love I hold for you is only one to ease the aching I have in my heart, not to truly want you, and have you, but to share the one thing I live for, the one thing I cannot bear to live without. Love. It just had to be you I fake that feeling with, and I’m sorry, because I do make it seem that I really want it. Like the way I reach to my nightstand, grab onto the gloves you gave me during the pouring rain, and smell for the scent of your cologne. I hate to say that I like it. That my shoulders tense and my eyes close having the scent of the clothes on my hand. That when I put them on, I feel the warmth of your palms surrounding mine. It does feel nice. But that feeling, the sweet feeling I get around you, could not ever compare to the richness of his smile, the beauty in his glare, the youth he gave me in moments of happiness and love. That, that was not love I had to fake. That love was true, very true. And it pains me how much time we spend together, walking together side by side, smiling and playing, when I could be in bed, listening to his soft laughter. You sing to me, and I like the songs you sing, but I love the way he would hum, like nobody was around to hear him, it was music to me that not one sound of your mouth could ever get close to. And his touch, his gentleness, how perfect the sense of him was, the awkward and sweaty feeling when our fingers interlock between me and you, I could not ever favor over him. I would take any and every beating from him, listen to him yell till my ears bled, let him pain me over and over, then to ever share something as intimate as a kiss or a hug with you. He loved me. He loved me a lot. That is the love I want. It pains me, because you are so kind, and I am content with you next to me, but he was right. In you, I only look for him, yet as I stare at you with every moment we share together, I realize he is right about another thing. I will never find him.