Besame Mucho

"If you love someone and you break up, where does the love go?"

I always knew it would be hard. I knew it would be the hardest thing I would face in my life so far. And I knew it was coming. I could feel it in every bone in my body when he would look at me. I guess, I just had this undying hope that it wouldn't happen. God, that hope consumed me.

Now I'm here. And it's worse than I could have imagined. How to describe it. Where do I start? Do I begin with explaining what it's like to be sitting on the couch with the person you love, looking into his eyes, knowing it's the last time you'll hold his hand?

Or do I begin by explaining how the love began? Was it that first day at the coffee shop when you were instantly smitten with his dimples and his smile? Or did the love begin that day in Montreal, when he kissed you in the rain?

Or maybe I should just get to the end, to how it feels when he calls you. When you say goodbye (that awful word, with so much weight and meaning, that you can barely whisper it) knowing it will be the last time you hear his voice?

See what I mean? I have no idea where to start.

There's something so physically painful about the way this feels. Like part of me is missing. My left leg maybe? No, maybe just the left lung. It makes it hard to breathe now but at some point, I'll get used to it and figure out a rhythm that works for me. But I'll always be missing it.