You made me believe that we connected infinitely, that nothing could break the bond that cleaved us together. We were one, and separation was not an option.
But things change–people change, I being one who changed more than either of us ever dreamed. Maybe I was too young, too stupid and silly, too much of a child still to know myself or understand how the river of love ebbs and flows. Maybe you were just selling a dream that you knew couldn’t transform into a lasting reality. Whatever the cause, the three strand cord does not exist, and we sit here day after day caged in a prison of fully silent days broken surreptitiously by small talk normally reserved for strangers.
I guess that’s what we are, huh? Strangers evolving in different directions, pulled in opposite directions of loving and learning and living.
Sometimes, I look at you and cry. Do you understand how I grieve, violently tossing words around in my mind trying to figure out which combination will open the door to the intimacy I crave? I don’t think you do, but then as time continues to remind me, I don’t know much at all anymore–about me, about you, about us. All I have is the promise of forever and flashes of memory of when nothing could come between us.