I just can’t help but feel cheated.
The love is there, I can feel it every time I think about him, every time I close my eyes and dream of a forever. Each rise and fall of my chest, every time my lungs fill with air, I feel as though I breathe him in, and am filled with love.
Even in moments of madness, when everywhere I look in my world is completely red and I try to pretend the love is not there, I feel it.
It holds me captive, a prisoner of my heart.
At times I think I can barely breathe, for the weight on my heart is so heavy.
Yet I feel cheated.
Cheated because in the beginning when our love was new, it felt like magic.
Moments that swirled around together, in a blur of happiness joy, and a feeling of being absolutely complete. They lasted forever, yet they lasted only but a moment.
In my head I was dizzy, drunk from a love that was so much I was intoxicated by it.
Light on my feet, I felt as though I would float away, turn into a cloud that lifted up to the heavens because I was so full of a love that was all I needed and all I would ever want for.
And yet I feel cheated.
I felt cheated as I watched the man from there and then, from the countless memories of bliss and wonder turn into a ghost.
A ghost of the love we had that became a love he didn’t have the time for, one he was too tired to even put half of the effort into.
We could live to be a hundred, a century of complete faithfulness, yet I would feel as cheated as though he had slipped out of bed every night and crawled into the bed of another. I would feel that cheated every day of my life knowing that his heart was never where it had been, once upon a time, when the story of our love had began as a fairytale to inspire children that a forever in love was possible.
Loyal, yet he cheats on my with time. With tasks and obligations he puts all his efforts into while my heart beats slowly in longing for the efforts he’s already wasted.
I could so easily be called spoiled, a dreamer who is so foolish to believe a love could not only remain the same, but grow and grow in intensity until one could barely even stand it.
Maybe that is the problem.
A love like this, that began as a wildfire could only grow and grow so far until it burned out, leaving me feeling cheated as I try to warm my hands and my heart in the dying embers of our love while I am surrounded by the cold shoulder of what our love had turned into.
So yes, I feel cheated.
Cheated by a love that burned so quickly out of control that eventually would run out of fuel and burn out while I was left alone in madness, haunted by the memories of a wildfire that burned so bright.
All that I am left with now is empty hope and madness, as I throw things on embers all but burned out, thinking in my madness that I could once again start a wildfire.
In my heart, I can still feel the wildfire. A wildfire that lights my soul.
Yet… I feel cheated.