How can we go back to the way things were when we can't even agree on how they were in the first place? There was the way you saw things, and there was the way I saw things and they never intersected, no matter how much we'd like to believe that we were once joined.
I can't even recall what it felt like to have your lips on mine, or to have your hand entwined in my hair. I can only recall the vagaries of misunderstanding--the hours spent deciphering something you said down to its component parts. I can only remember what it felt like to read those four words, over and over: "I am not ready."
I could have asked you if you honestly believed that you would never be. Instead I chose to pore over what you said obsessively, as if I could find nuances in your written word that would answer that question for me.
Posted by lux at September 8, 2003 11:38 PM