I don't know how you are so familiar to me-or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are.
Then realizing the irony in thinking you were the one under glass when in fact it has been me-a pinned butterfly-static and unmoving, watching while your other life unfolds. I've watched helplessly as day after day, your new girlfriend becomes your wife and then later, the mother of your children. The pain of seeing through to something you can never quite touch.įor years I've kept you in secret, behind a glass screen. When in truth, it is the transparency that kills you.
I sometimes think about the fragility of glass-of broken shards tearing against soft skin. No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left. But it was now time for her to go away-to find someone who could show her what happiness was.ĭo you remember the song that was playing the night we met? She thanked him for his gift of music and poetry but above all else-for showing her sadness because she had known neither of these things before him. When he asked her why, she took both his hands in hers and kissed them warmly. One day, he noticed it had been a very long time since her last smile.
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