The day I realized I was in love it was as if I became whole for the first time.
Cement was poured onto my once cracked and broken foundation and it seemed to find its way into every crevice. I thought it was my secret, a love no one else could see or feel or smell or taste but me. Yet it stimulated my every sense. It brightened every color and floated carelessly in the air. It gave me butterflies in the pit of my stomach while causing my skin find sensuality in even the thought of the lightest caress. It was in the musky smell of a familiar memory and in the taste of a lost kiss.
I told no one of this secret love, not even the one my heart had claimed. Others saw it in my choices, my behavior, though mainly they recognized it in my lost eyes, lost in a moment, in a time, in a hopeful memory.
Today, I felt my heart break. I felt it drop from my chest to the floor, only to be trampled unknowingly by the man I kept this secret from. I did not choose to love him and he did not choose to hurt me. Though I am not blind. I know that if I would have chosen to share with him my secret, he would have kindly handed me back my heart.