The Deep End

Sometimes we fall in love with the right person, but with the wrong soul.
A mate, but not a soulmate. We don’t connect on a deep level. Our bodies, minds, and souls do not dance; they walk.
We exist well together, but we don’t dream. We don’t have depth. We’re hanging comfortably in the shallow end. He wears a flotation device, and while he floats, I try hard to remember what drowning feelings like. But, he won’t let me drown. Our love thrives on simplicity. I love the comfort in knowing I nver have to drown unwillingly but sometimes, sometimes I miss the deep end.
I miss the battle. I miss the connection that burns through my skin and massages my inner core. The moments we can surely live without, but that we often crave. Sometimes I wonder how souls can exist without ever experiencing the deep, dark waters. How can one live without exploration of the mind, body, and soul? I’m seesawing on wishing my soul didn’t reach such depths, and criticizing those that don’t or can’t explore that realm. I have experienced a love that danced in the darkest of waters. The deepest part of that dark sphere is where we burned with passion, pain, and experience. But that fire wore out. Drowning together led to fighting. Neither of us could breathe. We were forced to enter a new level of selfishness–one in which saved ourselves, while killing the other.