Thursday, July 24, 2014

What might have been?

I guess that's what I wanted to say.
That I thought we really had something here. That's all.
Me too.

So now it is I who should forgive the sweet liar (for no such optimism should go unpunished).


He still tells me he loves me every morning
and as I emerge from a haze of restless dreams
I often wonder if, with each passing day, in these tragically sweet moments,
and before the commitment of dawn
if he means it a little less than the day before.

Overtones of disappointment punctuate our every move.
Our present is muted by our future and what might have been a great love recedes as quietly as it came. 

I study his face - 
his pores
the crinkles near his eyes
hints of silver at his temples.
He can stare at the ceiling, expressionless,
for so long
but when I ask him what he is thinking he says
and I'm afraid that I believe him.


my brain is abuzz with sensation
constantly churning and negotiating and wondering

and this is how I know he will do fine when I am gone for good.


  1. I know this feeling... we had something worth fighting for... now I don't know any more... I'm always over thinking it all too...

  2. Forgiving the sweet liar, what a hard thing to do. Moving on and up is so hard, but it is such a strength if you are able to do it. Beautiful words, love.

    Tightrope to the Sun

  3. he's thinking of you for sure

    all my love

  4. People are always thinking of something, he who tells you otherwise is a liar. Makes for excitment though, thinking about what they are hiding.