What will never be
I was crying so loud
some guy asked me if I was OK.
Was walking by the river, the night was my shroud.
He probably thought I had been attacked...
or something.
Told him, 'I'm fine,
broke up with my boyfriend.
It would have been
two years.
This Sunday'
I probably didn't
look or sound that fine or great.
Mascara running
down my cheeks
like some cheap date.
Then it started to rain.
Not just half-hearted rain, but pouring, drenched to the bone rain.
Like the heavens wanted to
hide my tears, to mingle them with
their own.
To be honest, it was like one of those bad films.
I couldn't hide the body wrenching sobs
that come when something
in your life changes and you know
that you will never have it ever again.
Like when my dad died, and I knew
he wouldn't see me graduate.
Or be there to give me away on my wedding day.
It's a selfish kind of grief,
valid, honest, truthful
but selfish. Not weeping for the person, but what you miss,
what you will miss, and what you never had.
For the what is lost and for what will never be.
By Beckie
© 2006 Beckie
(All rights reserved)
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