I’m starting to put back together
the puzzling pieces of me.
the parts that fractured again
and fell on the ground at my feet.
I lost myself in your gaze
not literally, you didn’t see me.
for you, it had nothing to do with me
and for me, even less to do with you.
I needed to feel wanted
needed to feel a need.
with practiced precision and measured steps
you have mastered the art of those things.
I once thought the voice that spoke to me
never spoke to anyone else.
that I was somehow special set apart.
but I think now I see, that is just you
and the way you sound when you sing.
the openness and honesty
again I misunderstood.
leveled at the thought of being trusted
with the words you gave to me.
again it had nothing do with me
but so much to do with you.
for you it’s not about trust at all
but your need to be truly heard.
I thought that I saw you and heard you
and for the most part I honestly did.
but what I interpreted and what you meant
completely missed the mark.
with compassion and empathy you heard me
and reacted to all of the cues.
and responding to what you heard.
anyone could have been overwhelmed
by the intensity of me.
with bleeding words and a broken soul
that has never truly been healed.
I wasn’t ready for someone like you
neither one of us knowing when to stop.
where to draw lines in the sand
and how to stay on our own side.
we tip toed around in places
we never should have been.
and both of us now wear scars
that bear each other’s names.
mistakes such as these, errors grave
are never without regret.
my regret lies in the face
that I’ll never get to see.
I wish that I had been less selfish
but it was the first time, you see.
that I let myself want what I wanted
and feel what I believed.
lessons learned, oh so many
throwing caution to the wind.
is something I’ve never done before
and will never do again.
there are reasons for measuring words
reasons that meter exists.
reasons for counting syllables
for searching for language that fits.
I broke the rules, used punctuation
far too freely on the page.
it changed the way the story read
poetic license stolen away.
I think at the very core
of who each one of us is.
we felt the exact same emotions
but we called them by different names.
I don’t doubt that we heard each other
or that we saw each other’s souls.
again like any interpretive perception
everything is relative.
we both needed to be needed
both needed to be heard.
and in that we heard each other so loud
screaming out in pain.
good intentions misconstrued.
paved the road to where we are now
forever gone astray.