Bent Words

Bent Words

October 19, 2007

I know you saw so much – I know, at times, you could see right through me. It was something I cherished and, equally, something I grew to fear. You saw each change of temperature, each awkward step toward revelation, each time my fingers shook and each question reflected in my eyes.

But what mattered most was what you never saw or what you came to no longer see. That’s where we left off…

As the days drifted forward, moving with the rhythm of our ‘good mornings’ or the inconsistency of our ‘good nights,’ you began to look for things that would mark our ending. You sought out the imperfections, scrutinized each line for truth, attempting to reveal something about me which you believed would bring me down to you. All too quickly, you became consumed. You proceeded to light up each blemish, mark every disappointment, showcase every infirmity as though they summarized my existence. You never passed up an opportunity of persecution, a moment of malice or a second of wrathful severity. You saw each moment with clarity – each ounce of failure, every single stumble, each rupture in the system.

But you never saw the intensity of my desire. How I held out, before tearing my stare away, for your smile. How my fingers lingered in the air, seeking your reassurance before reaching forward, and how I trembled even with the thought.

You never seemed to notice how your words got to me, how they were the definition of my affection for the rest of the day.

You didn’t catch my glance, from the corner of my eye, watching you from far away as you watched me so closely.

You weren’t aware that I was standing beside you as you hurried on in catching up. You didn’t feel the weight of my embrace the night you called out in agony or the pressure of my kiss to calm your fears to rest again. You didn’t recall, months later, the brush of my touch upon your cheek, remembering how your tears fell the night you let me into your past. You didn’t see it. How I pointed to your heart, securing the connection between your soul and mine, engraving your memory in mine.

Somehow you missed it.

Or else you would not have claimed, in amplified self-defense, that it was never there.

Instead, all you chose to see were my deficiencies. And rather than tell me that I simply wasn’t right for you or that you simply weren’t the man for me, you chose to break me down. It was your decision. You saw what you wanted to see. You saw what would make you safe.

You saw what would cure you from love and loss. And in all that fury, you missed so much. In that sort of fury, we all do. We miss so much. Opening our eyes, expecting to see the darkness – what else could we find but more darkness to douse the light…

Written at 8:39 p.m.