Nobody Does it Better

   One walks away from the other feeling empowered.  Invincible.  Leaving the other feeling desolate.  Deprived.  (Neither of us is ever unscathed.  And we're never both okay.  I guess that's the problem with letting someone in.  It's never going to end with both of you whole.)  "I trust you.  I promise.  I trust you one hundred percent."


   This time it was I, late at night, who confessed, as I have before, that it needs to be over.  He should have seen it coming, but he didn't.  I understand.  He drops hints too, when it's his turn and I never notice them.  Or I do, but I ignore them.  Why do we think ignoring the signs will change the future?  If anything, that will only guarantee it.


   It takes awhile for me.  I toy with the idea for too long.  I can never do it as cleanly as he can.  He's less invested.  He can so easily be absorbed in distractions.  I just focus singularly on loss.


   I come right out with it.  He laughs.  "You're really drunk, aren't you?"  I'm not.  Fortunately.  Another drink and I wouldn't have had the spine.  Another couple and my assertion would have escalated into aggression.   
   "I'm sorry."  He doesn't get angry.  "It's up to you."  "Do you think this is fair to me?"  "No."


   That night I fill page after page with the same two words.  There are filler sentences, but I can really only comprehend a single thought.  I'm devastated.

   It isn't just the present we're losing.  "I just wish you were here."  It's the past.  "I want to kiss you badly."   It's the future.  "I want our boat to have a fireplace.  And be just like the Titanic."  "You know that sank, right?"  "Well, just like it except that part."

   The next morning is positive.  I'm excited to find out what I'm going to do next.  "It's like anything is possible now.  I'm devastated, but I feel so optimistic.  Like anything can happen.  I needed to do it.  I put it off for way too long."

   We last a week.  You come back first, which surprises me, because I left.  I guess you didn't think I'd come back.  Maybe I wouldn't have.

   "I'll be there."  "I'll believe that when I see it."  "I mean it!" "Maybe someday you'll actually prove me wrong."  "I will.  I'm going to."

   My head's way too smart to believe that, but too romantic not to want to.  In any event, I'm smiling.  And tonight, that's enough.