If I Could Have Told You
Between us now, a drawing distance bridged. Upon glistening regret do I fixate my heart upon. If I had told you, would it have made a difference? Immense repression of a word and gaze sought to negate my futile chase. Of a dream. Of a hope. If only I could have told you.
Where once comfort and assurance billowed from your words, a hollow echo now reverberates a grief ago. Splinters and shards, of time I'd failed to grasp. A happiness desired, enveloped by your laughter.
I miss you.
I'd wanted to tell you so much, but I was afraid. With a fear of rocking the boat, I'd suppressed and dismissed that which had crept in silently. You never told me. Poised for an indication, your presence gleamed over my choked words. If I could tell you what I'd wanted to say, this drenching of tears would halt.
They said you did. Denial accompanied bewilderment. That could not be true. That should not be true. You were perfect. What was I to expect anything in return? Contemplative nuances and brash snippets made not a canvas of truth. Instance upon instance, they reinforced their stand and hestitatingly, I had come to believe.
It had to go on. It tore me to watch you. I didn't know if I'd hurt you because you'd never told. They chided me and said I did. Did I? There was no way I could have known. You never told and like you, I'd never asked. I was told that it was blatant for all to see. The answer was in your eyes, they insisted. If so, I lacked the courage to accept what I had desired across this stretch of years. Acting aloof and distant, a portrait of nonchalance I'd painted. It was not because I did not care. How could I have told you? They said you didn't want to let go. Neither did I.
Now, you've finally broken the chains. You've left the past behind. You don't need me anymore.
And I, struggling daily to shut off thoughts of you, have failed. Empty and void, my incessant trickle releases my grief, if only temporarily. I don't know how to. I've tried. I don't know how to. I'm sorry.
Where once comfort and assurance billowed from your words, a hollow echo now reverberates a grief ago. Splinters and shards, of time I'd failed to grasp. A happiness desired, enveloped by your laughter.
I miss you.
I'd wanted to tell you so much, but I was afraid. With a fear of rocking the boat, I'd suppressed and dismissed that which had crept in silently. You never told me. Poised for an indication, your presence gleamed over my choked words. If I could tell you what I'd wanted to say, this drenching of tears would halt.
They said you did. Denial accompanied bewilderment. That could not be true. That should not be true. You were perfect. What was I to expect anything in return? Contemplative nuances and brash snippets made not a canvas of truth. Instance upon instance, they reinforced their stand and hestitatingly, I had come to believe.
It had to go on. It tore me to watch you. I didn't know if I'd hurt you because you'd never told. They chided me and said I did. Did I? There was no way I could have known. You never told and like you, I'd never asked. I was told that it was blatant for all to see. The answer was in your eyes, they insisted. If so, I lacked the courage to accept what I had desired across this stretch of years. Acting aloof and distant, a portrait of nonchalance I'd painted. It was not because I did not care. How could I have told you? They said you didn't want to let go. Neither did I.
Now, you've finally broken the chains. You've left the past behind. You don't need me anymore.
And I, struggling daily to shut off thoughts of you, have failed. Empty and void, my incessant trickle releases my grief, if only temporarily. I don't know how to. I've tried. I don't know how to. I'm sorry.
God, take my hands and let me learn to let him go.
posted by whimsical_fantasies at 4:13 AM
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