He needed her to be there so he wouldn't be alone. He needed her to stay to make his life good and better. He needed her to be what he could not. He put her above all others in ways only he could know. She never knew...never felt those ways. He couldn't show them to her. That was his only failing and her greatest heartbreak.
He wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman ever before in his life. He lusted for her, desired her, thought of nothing but her. He was consumed by her face, her body, her person...he wanted all of her because she was his ideal. She made him feel alive with hope for more, hope for a life to be lived with what he had never experienced. He wanted joy and kindness, conversation and sexuality, tenderness and playfulness. He wanted a true partner in all of his life.
He loved her. He loved her completely, fully, uncontrollably and longingly. That came first. The love. All else--desire, mutual respect, lust, tenderness, spirituality--was right behind the love that was held so tightly for decades. The love was always there. It never left, never ebbed, never waned. He ached for her. He loved no other like her. He thought and dreamt of her. It was the love, only love, that moved him toward her. And then, he carried the pieces of her broken heart in his heart...and he always will.
One gave, one took, one wanted.....and all that was left was me.....