Never Was

Never did he stroke her hair or kiss her on her forehead. Never did he caress her calves like he did so many other parts of her body. Never did he cling to her. Never did he need to be peeled off of her. While his hands would have bruised for her, never did he let those same strong fingers intertwine with hers, so soft and delicate.

Never did he kiss her lips in the way that she had seen hundreds of times in the movies and millions of times in her dreams. Never did he wrap his arms tightly around her body after the first strike of lightning that started a bad storm. Never did he melt in her eyes or allow her to hold a fixation long enough for her to melt in his. While he provided for her financially with everything she could have ever wanted and more, never did he present her with a piece of jewelry picked specifically with her in mind.

Never did he say, “good night, beautiful,” before she drifted off into a deep sleep. Never did he call her babe, baby, sweetie, sweetheart, angel, or honey. Never did he refer to her by any name other than the name she used to introduce herself to those unknown. While he said hello, goodbye, thank you, and please, never did he say I love you in a way that allowed her to believe it to be true.

Never did he prepare for her an evening filled with all of the essentials of romance. Never did he allow her tired head to use his strong bicep as a pillow. Never did he rest on her body and allow her hand to trace gentle outlines in his neck. While they shared a bed every night they slept under the same roof, never once did she fall asleep while being held in his arms.

Never did he write her a poem, sing her a song, or even so much as converse with her in a flirtatious way. Never did he leave a handwritten note next to her pillow. Never did he share a dream, either real or imaginary, that would provide a glimpse into the creative side of his mind. While he would devote his attention fully to her when she sought his advice on matters of concern, never did he bounce ideas off of her or allow her to be a driving force in his life.

Never was he spontaneous, preferring to be calculated, unsurprised by anything that might come. Never did he dance foolishly in front of her just to bring out a smile and to see her laugh. Never did he allow her to see his imperfections, his unfeigned authenticity forever a mystery. While he saw past her limitations and was never one to harp on her flaws, never did he allow her to see him as a human in the rawest sense of the word.

But now she is old, and her body is tired. And those desires she once yearned for are wishes no longer. Her once unrivaled passion for what might be now replaced by a mundane routine of what is. Her hopes for the life she dreamt about since a little girl quickly forgotten if remembered at all. She no longer craves the passion of touch or conversations of fulfillment. It was always the words that were not said that impacted her life more than the words which were spoken. With him, she’s always felt healthy, safe, and secure. Dreams of love and intimacy became an afterthought, so foreign to her now that perhaps they were never dreams at all.