Sometimes I have an eye for detail,
But what I remember of that time
Are the broad brush strokes:
Landscapes, unexpected feelings,
Her.

It could have been me, standing there
Instead of him, even though I know
It could not have.

She was more beautiful than I realised;
I was more infatuated than I realised.
It was the era of hiding from
My true feelings, the era of denial…
Dark days of dark desires that were
Light compared with reality.

It could have been me: I could have
Broken her heart instead of another’s,
Wasted her years with endless indecision;
But no. It could only have been
Another me, a different me; a me
Who is not me at all.

And yet…the me who was really there,
Watching, slightly broken hearted, from
A few rows back, still wonders what
Could have been, even though he knows
The answer.

04/20/2014

Posted on 05/03/2014
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince