Monday 1/16/2006 12:04:00 AM

There was chinese food. There was silence. There was the swell of thoughts I couldn't articulate. As we devoured our food the moment would devour us. And I would scramble to recover what had never been mine to have.

There was loss because I'd been give the illusion of connection. And I'd taken it readily. Because at the time, it was what I needed.

The world works in mysterious ways, but people don't. They build their staircases from the materials available. You might be the bricks. You may be the mortar. But either way they'll be stepping on you.

He turned me into friend because he knew that was what he had to do. Not to keep a lover, but to lose an enemy.

Because we had sex many times, but love was something we'd never made. Not together, nor with anyone else.

To make love you have to believe it exists. Or at least be able to take it on faith that someday it might.

As many times as I told myself I loved him I never was able to resolve all the things about him I didn't.

I guess love isn't something real outside of verses. Hearts escapade as lives, but eventually life overtakes them.

The truth is the good memories are worse than the bad ones. That I can go back to find it was almost possible. And knowing now that chance is gone.

The truth is I'd have been more content having never known that life could be as different as it was then.

That hope could appear in the look you stared at me with. And just as quickly both you and it could disappear. Not that you never were, but that it doesn't really matter what we've been.

All clouds flocked together. All eyes closed until the truth decides to confront us again.

And what we were real once more, if only for the time it takes for hate to interfere.

Because it the only way I know anymore to understand.

The truth is I know we never could've known eachother because then it would've been too real for either of us to face.

And I just wish sometimes that bridge would've broken sooner. So that I'd never have known what it feels like to be on the other side.

In your world it was never a choice. So how could you ever know how difficult it was in mine.

How could anyone ever know. When those words never arrived.

They should've known. That's what I thought. But I was wrong. They weren't right. But I was wrong so many times.

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