to the one that never was (to the one that wrenched my heart)Posted: June 16, 2010
You are the one that never was.
You are the sobering influence to a night of drunken misadventures. You are what prevented the wall painted the same shade as your heart from crumbling. You are the one who stopped things from getting out of hand. You are the levee that prevented the flood.
We are two automobiles in a left turn lane at midnight on a Friday, waiting on the light to shift from an ominous red to a bright green arrow. For those minutes we are waiting, we are together. We are law-abiding citizens, lazily staring into the eyes of the intersection, measuring the cadence of the sound our turn signals make in four-four time. Our signals are dissonant, but serve the exact same purpose. For a few brief seconds, our blinking lights shine and stop together in unison only to fall out of synchronization once more.
I am the night of karaoke that you neglected in favor of staying home. I am someone you could have enjoyed. I am the person running to a closing airport gate with a hastily bought boarding pass in pursuit of someone who had already taken off. I am a raging torrent of idiocy and naivete.
We are two leaves dancing lazily through the air, carelessly flirting with the notion of being together. We are subject to the overpowering influence of the wind, taking us in directions that will ultimately be miles apart. We are two entities struggling to disprove the inevitable. We will meet once as we fall towards the uncaring ground, briefly intertwining, nudging each other ever so slightly. My path will be diverted towards areas that I had not foreseen while yours will continue, unhindered by our exchange. For those few moments, we are together in spite of the fact that it never really feels as such.
You are the sign on the side of the road that captivated me, but I did not follow. You are the dish on the restaurant menu that I had made up my mind on, but did not order. You are the one that won’t return. You are the one I regret not loving.
We are two people who shared an intimate bond but did nothing of it. We are living testaments to the dangers of being scared of rejection, of being bashful enough to ignore the part of the mind that’s a constant reminder of the great things that are right in front of your face. We are the victims of our own inaction. Our time together was not wasted. Our time together was not a forlorn cause. We are two people who came together at the wrong time. We are raindrops racing down a glass window pane on a warm afternoon in early June. We are driftwood floating down a tranquil river that leads to the thundering roar of rushing water. We are a dirt path in the middle of nowhere that suddenly splits in two.
I am the driver filled with annoying trepidation, going fifty miles an hour on a highway where the average speed is one hundred. I am the agoraphobe whose heart pounds at the mere thought of taking a step on his porch. I am the one who took his damn sweet time.
We are two people who were entirely too late. We are two people walking in opposite directions, who lock eyes and know what the other wants to do. We are the knot in one’s chest that forms suddenly when the mind wanders to things that it shouldn’t. We are the moment that someone walks away. We are a modern love that will happen again with different protagonists. We are something good that could have worked. We are the results of the circumstances that brought us together, and we couldn’t have been more than what we were. In that aspect, I have nothing but regret.
We is a word that I never really got to use.