Personal Space

   You leaned in close to me, brushing lint that only you can see from the curve of my dark eyelashes.

   I can see the opaqueness of your eyes, feel the warmth of your breath as you concentrate on your gentleness for a change. The smoky scent of your breath doesn't make me wince as it would have once upon a time, instead it brings up into my heart a memory of us together, when our ragged breaths were the only things that were between us. I lose myself in the glass of your light colored eyes, and you accomplish your task and look into mine.

   For a moment we are locked in each others gaze, everything else forgotten, everything that made us no longer an us a thing of mist and shadows. I can feel the heat radiating off of your body, you are so close to me. Closer than you have been for months.

   I notice that you have lost weight, I notice that you are shorter than I remembered, I notice that you have more gray hairs and less hair in general, I notice that I can tell exactly how long you've been without shaving from the length of your whiskers, I notice that you're wearing a shirt I bought you a long time ago, and I notice that you are not drawing away from me.

  Finally you speak, and it is barely even the hint of a whisper, "You can't tell me that you don't still love me....".

   I give the only answer I can, the only words I can force from my worn out heart. "I never even tried to tell you that, all I ever said was that we were not right for each other."

   I break the gaze of memories and turn to walk away, and I can literally feel your dejection behind me, you'd reacted to a spark, as I had, and that spark was gone, a dead ember that for a moment tried to revive, but was squelched by the waters of common sense and experience.

   My entire soul aches, mourning the loss of something I never even had, but was the spawn of hope. There are no words, there are no feelings, there is no balm for this kind of wound. There is only wisdom, and time, and tears, and more hope. I could wish with every ounce of my soul for things to have been different, but they are not, because we are who we are. And we are not for each other. I continue to mourn, I continue to wish, I continue to love, but I refuse to continue to try, when I know where the road leads, and that place is not where I want to be.