by Richard Vince
In five and a half years, I have
Moved on, but I am still here.
I still care, insofar as I ever
In my ocean, your words are
Icebergs, occasionally appearing
As if from nowhere, with
Much more beneath than
Either of us saw. I have
Learned to navigate around them,
But they are no less present.
My memory has always been
Too good for my own good;
I hope yours has been able to
Forget all I was and was not,
All I said and did not say,
All that brought us together
And drove us apart.
The mourning for what could
Not have been was replaced
With bitterness long ago, but now
That has given way to proper
Regret, to genuine remorse.
Rather than pining for a fantasy,
I merely miss reality:
A friendship I cherished with
A friend I loved; the joy of
Sharing in your joy that
I denied myself through giving in
To obsessiveness, to possessiveness,
There will always be room for you
In my life and in my heart, but
I do not deserve the same in yours.
You should not forgive, but merely
Forget: forget I ever hurt you,
And forget the friend I pretended
To be while being anything but.
Posted on 10/12/2018
Copyright © 2019 Richard Vince