In A Relationship

So weeks will go by and I don't hear from her. Then when I do, it's either "Hey, I'll be out for happy hour" or "This is the worst week of my life." I'm not sure if the problem is I'm trying to give more than she wants or if she's really just not sure what she wants. Either way, in the weeks between our tedious e-mail conversations I've come to realize that this isn't what I thought it was. She's not who I'm in love with. The person I'm in love with, if she had rejected me like this, would not go on treating me the way I'm currently being treated (in a way I can't even describe). I kept thinking along those lines and I realize that I've actually rejected myself. And now it feels like the real healing begins.


IN A RELATIONSHIP

Despite what you think, this is who I am.
And despite my ideas, that is who you are.
You said I lost my romantic when the opposite is true.
In the time we were apart I idealized you
into something you aren’t, something you never were.
I was blinded by what my mind had imagined,
someone I wanted,
someone who would give me that amazing love.
That someone no longer exists, perhaps never existed.

My creation rejects me.
You say it’s grotesque.
I’ve disappointed myself more than anything.
I dressed you up in dreams and then woke up
when you came knocking.
It’s too late for me. But not for us.

It is grotesque that I’ll still let you break my heart.
Because you have and you do and you will.
I know that so there’s nothing to worry about.
No one could make me forget if I’m still remembering.

I sort through memories wondering what any of us deserve.
I deal with it all in a conversation that might never end
because I can see the glory.
What we become can only be our design.
I still think it’s beautiful.

Letters

The reason we stopped talking, as she likes to always remind me, is because of a letter I wrote to her. I honestly don't remember what exactly I said, but I have an idea. Things had just gotten to a point with us where we were doing more harm than good to each other, or at least we were about to. I couldn't face her, I knew I couldn't tell her to her face that I could no longer be her friend. So I did what some might consider the most cowardly thing ever. I keep thinking about the letter, trying to remember exactly what I said.


LETTERS

I should have been the one to find you.
I wanted to. I drove by your old house,
thought about what I would say but never had the right words.
I never thought I could heal the damage.
I think about these grand gestures I wanted to make,
inspired conversations I wanted to have.
But I don’t think they would make a difference.
I really have no right to be here.

After all the tormented pain you still smell the same.
It still makes me feel the same. I’ve always wanted my second chance.
How beautiful that you’ve almost given it to me.

I had good reasons for making bad decisions.
I was never knowingly selfish in the way I treated you.
But all you can think of is the letter.
I wrote you hundreds and you only remember one,
the one I can’t recall that I’m sure is tattooed across your broken heart.
What else could I do? It’s what we both needed.
At the time the wrong reasons were right.
You were happier with others than you thought you could be with me.
Don’t you understand yet why I did what I did?

If I had kept writing this would just be even more pathetic.
That’s why I stopped.
I bleed in words only tapping into human emotion instead of yours.
Your interpretations were never right.

I didn’t want you to feel like I felt.
But every time I try not to hurt you I hurt you even more.
We’re hurting each other with the pain the other avoided.
How beautiful that you must now do to me what I did to you.

I make myself cry with your words.
You don’t have this power over someone and not use it.
I knowingly make stupid choices now that it doesn’t matter
where I am or where you go
because you’ll always have the best part of me that you will allow.
How beautiful that this is where we’ve chosen to ended.