That Was Second

I have, many times imagined, the unimaginable.
That she was sitting, here, with me, talking, about "us".
We used to be "us", but, not any more.  Such a sad story.
Truly about the incapacity of mindful intention.
And the hegemony of hesitation and fear, fixed in the subconscious.

We each have our perception of what happened, outwardly,
although if asked separately, I think the stories could differ.
It does not matter, at this point, to reconcile the inequities.
There remains only the cheerless opportunity afforded,
to envision what should have been different, if it could have been.

As I suppose most others would, I searched for that pivotal point,
upon which it revolved, as if the knowing could help, some, how.
The lion’s share of retrospection is always, rightfully, self directed,
what I did and did not, said and said not, believed and believed not.
And I found what I wistfully suppose to be my crucial contribution.

While I don’t see that it ever could or even should happen,
if somehow I had the chance, I believe I would ask her,
 “Do you know what I think was the biggest mistake of my life”?
After her protests “I’m sure I don’t”, if she were to acquiesce
“breaking up with me?”, I would reply “no, that was second”.

“First was convincing you that I always know what I am doing.”

I am very honest, I say what I mean and I mean what I say.
I sought to use this in our service, by reminding her thereof,
on numerous occasions, not the least of which was when
I assured her that I really, really wanted us to be together,
though circumstances had pushed us geographically apart.

But my conviction to honesty, and my well-intentions reminders
contained unforeseen affect, borne during that fateful argument.
When our doubts overwhelmed our intended course.
The day I suggested, “Maybe you should go back home”,
even though I wanted her to stay, here, with me, forever.

The intended meaning of those so-very few words, is mute.
She believed only that I had asked her to leave – and that
“I said what I meant and I meant what I said”.  So she left.
We both were then stunned, she that I would say such a thing,
and I that she, with no dispute or discussion, would simply go.

Later, when she tried to talk to me, I was not ready,
and still later, when I was ready, it was too late.
This was the consequence of my biggest mistake.  She never though
that I could be so, so honest,  yet also so, so horribly amiss.
She simply believed what she heard, and I had led her to do so.

Neither of us could bridge the ensuing gap between us, though we tried,
to heal the hurts and sooth the scars, and recall the genuine goodness.
The question “what should have been different, if it could have been”,
then begged the question “if it could have been different, should it have been”?
If we had saved “us” then, would we now be happy?  I really, really wonder….
 
 
 

2009/04/10