Upon kissing him goodbye, I walked back to my apartment, half-looking over my shoulder to see him get into the car. I didn't wait to see him drive off. I knew he was leaving, gone. I carried a bittersweet mix of sadness, contentment and relief up the stairs, shut and locked the door to return to the haven of my world.
Naively reaching for bait of empty promises, over the years I continued giving bits of my private self, my inner thoughts and feelings; bits of my soul. I find it difficult to share these with others, but I believed he was different. I trusted wrongly and regrettably, I ignored myself. I was stupid. I followed my heart when I should have followed my head. I hoped - but hope is for suckers.
It took my falling into a black hole, restlessness for more out of my life, maybe even a mid-life crisis, to realize the error of my ways. To realize that everyone else but me was right. I HATE being wrong (stubbornness, trait of a Taurus). Starting a new life has helped, but I still needed my closure.
The first day of his visit was good, it was Thanksgiving, but later that evening, it all clicked. There's no love. The next day, I didn't say much. I didn't want to invest any more of myself, I couldn't bare to do it. I let barriers encompass me, it's safer. Maybe he noticed, maybe he didn't.
And finally, I felt that every bit of my soul that I had given him has been reclaimed. He didn't give it back, somewhere, I found it. Despite still loving him, I found the strength to close the door.