quaint

i wore all black everything.
hair down to the middle of my back.
prayed my brown eyes weren't green from envy. 
drove the car he had driven more than me. more than anyone.
his cd was still playing through my speakers.
every stop sign reminded me to breathe.
and every green light reminded me, we're not going any further.
there he was on a sidewalk full of people. only one mattered.
ex marks the spot.
his smile could make tears rethink their purpose.
i looked at him and saw my reflection.
isn't that what happens when you let someone inside?
they filter through you and eventually you can't tell where you began and he ends.

and it's only a matter of time before you are looking at a reflection you don't recognize.

our interaction could never be poetry. no metaphors for love. no similes for hate. no literary license for one moment to describe them all.  i looked at him and his smile turns light bulbs on inside of me.  but the behavior that brought us here disappoints me still.  a few posts back i decided i had moved through this. once he was a memory. then missing him became the memory. and now there are some moments when the stars in the sky align just right that i receive a reminder of the man i once loved.  [SECONDHAND - IT'S NOT OVER...youtube this song and continue reading].  it was like seeing a ghost. it's only when you get old do you realize how young you were.  innocent and naive are no substitutes for moral behavior.  we've done wrong. horribly wrong. the kind of wrong that you take with you in every relationship that follows.  


it was supposed to be a conversation but ended up as a slow dance. recalling moments where we should have went left when we thought we were going right.  we spoke about the should haves and the could have and the would haves. it's so much easier to get a point across when you're not mad anymore or betrayed anymore or when you're not busy lying anymore.  it's so easy to be honest after your untruths have been discovered.  it's so easy to speak after not speaking.  but it's not so easy to love after you've taught yourself not to.  one thing is evident - we have moved forward as adults, as a man and a woman, separately but very much still together.  i used to think that puberty was for ages twelve through sixteen.  but when you're looking at someone who's hurt you, suddenly you realize, you never outgrow that awkward stage.  when you stop believing the only man who's called you beautiful, you know all too well the struggles of the ugly duckling.  


as the conversation moved on like we had, we spoke about things as best friends instead of once lovers.  we spoke about careers instead of kisses, we spoke about vacations instead of children, we spoke about the past instead of the future.  and when we smiled at each other, it wasn't too flirt or to reminisce, but rather it was to acknowledge that friends become lovers and lovers become strangers and strangers meet once again to be friends.  


and who knows if we'll ever date again? neither of us are wondering but even still, despite everything, i would give up my life for his in a heartbeat but that doesn't mean i'm not going to live it to the fullest before i do.