What I was meant for…

  

I remember long summers

Of sneaking into your room

In the deepest pools of the night

And just laying with you for hours

Until the light brought us to the surface again

You used to tell me that I was meant for so much more than this

But what you meant was that I was never meant for you

Something that turned out to be true

I remember freezing in February, piles of blankets, and Nina Simone

I remember reading the lines on your hands, and that freckle on your arm

I still see the soft crinkle in your eyes and your brightest smile

I recall the uglier parts of the story of course

The aching hours I endured, and the stinging words I flung at you

I still feel lost when I replay those first kisses, the only ones I ever had that felt real

But I was never meant for that, for long summers and soft nights

For being kissed like that, for secret escapes through honeysuckle and willow trees 

I was meant for paint brushes and badly written laments

For star gazing, rainbow chasing, time travel, making messes with mica and paint

For feeling the earth breathing under my feet, for watching tiny clams dig into the sand

For watching the moon hang low in the sky, meteor showers, and Venus in my sign

I was never really meant for you

So that was the one thing you said that was true.

—

Leah R Chatterjee

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