"some nights I wake up knowing he is anxious"

This poem called "Private Parts" by Sarah Kay speaks to me at a very deep level. I feel very similarly about the "first love of my life" - we may have not lasted as long as what we could have, or seen each other "naked," but I stilled loved and continue to care for him very much. However, I've never said all the things I'd like to say to him - too afraid, too shy, too much pride. It doesn't matter what it was that kept me from being honest with him, but I do hold that regret with me. Our relationship ended abruptly and too soon. We may not have ended up being "soul mates," but at least if I'd been honest and open with him, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this. I wish him the best in his life and that he finds true love; I know that someday I will and that maybe someday I'll stop thinking about him.

The first love of my life never saw me naked.
There was always a parent coming home in a half hour.
Always a little brother in the next room.
Always too much body and not enough time for me to show him.
Instead, I gave him my shoulder, my elbow, the bend of my knee.
I lent him my corners, my edges.
The parts of me I could afford to offer.
The parts of me I had long since given up trying to hide.
He never asked for more.
He gave me his eyelashes, the back of his neck, his palms.
We held each we were given like it was a nectarine.
Could bruise if we weren't careful.
We collected them like we were trying to build an orchard.
The spaces he never saw, the ones my parents had labeled "private parts."
When I was still small enough to fit all of myself and worries inside a bathtub,
I made up for by handing over all the private parts of me.
There was no secret I didn't tell him.
There was no moment I didn't share.
We didn't grow up, we grew in, like ivy wrapping, molding each other into perfect yings and yangs.
We kissed with mouths open.
Breathing his exhale into my inhale.
We could have survived underwater, or in outer-space, living off only the breath we traded.
We spelled love G-I-V-E
I never wanted to hide my body from him.
If I could have I would have given it all away with the rest of me.
I didn't know it was possible to save some things for myself.
Some nights I wake up knowing he is anxious.
He is across the world in another woman's arms
and the years I have spread us like dandelion seeds,
sanding down the edges of our jigsaw parts that used to only fit each other.
He drinks from the pitcher on the nightstand.
Checks the digital clock, it is 5 am.
He tosses in sheets and tries to settle.
I wait for him to sleep before tucking myself into elbows and knees.
Reaching for things I have long since given away.