I am sorry I was never yours. I wish there were something I could do or say to change my ways. There was never any use to even try, but you were so hopeful. Convinced, the sharp edges of my shattered heart wouldn't cut you. Your faith in love drove you, making me feel careless in the wake. Maybe there was a chance for us, but all I know of love is how to say good-bye.
I remember the boy filled with hope, your throaty laugh, the downcast eyes, the murmurs that developed the words that turned to all night that evolved to tangled bodies. I didn't give up on you just because I couldn't believe it.
I remember when you moved in me, every breath pulling us closer to each other. Your devotion was so convincing that you asked for proof that I was unaffected. You were playing a game you had already lost. With tears in your eyes, you listened. I was forced to break you, and I couldn't be the one to soothe you.
Your skin was too thin, so you lost your faith. The days to months, the months to years, the partners and break-ups, the marriages and divorces, the children. You changed your name and came back a different man. In the light, you begged for forgiveness, salvation, a return to faith. In the dark, you called me friend, the friend that knows you best.
Filled with pain, you beg me to take it away while chiding me for my discretion. Jealous of my quiet. You pretend to suffer in silence, but you scream without even raising your voice. You accuse of things you don't understand, pretending I am the only one to inflict pain. You can't listen when you're making all the noise.
Friends to lovers to friends. We smile together, speak in hushed tones. Your hand still clutches mine down the road. Your eyes still dart to me in the dark. I've gotten used to my role. Your skin is still too thin; the bright lights are leaving their marks.
The moments are slicing now; the scars are deep. The murmurs still develop to words that always spill all night, but I'm trying to save you from the things we have said and done before. There are arguments of time, discussions of priorities, and the oppressive presence of ego.
You always asked what I will do when you're gone. It felt like bravado in your youth, but now it's unveiled fear. What will I do? Live my peaceful dream. Fade into the crowd. Blend in with the mass. Quiet as a breeze and calm as the morning fog. I may even have that cold and broken smile that once intrigued you.
But I still promise I will never say good-bye. My dear sweet boy with the soft brown eyes that misses his mother, the man seeking to regain his faith, the gentleman that is inflamed by the slightest shadow that graces my skin; I can always stay a little longer, so you aren't alone. I can't give you my heart, but I can give you my time.
