Thursday, July 12, 2012

with years, but newer every day

past, as prologue:

she had always said she would do anything for him

future, as pretense:

[sitting next to one another, but both facing forward, pretending they don't have past history]

I wish I was by your side.

I think about you all the time.

(You're so successful now.)

You are too.  Look at you, so cute.

[she pushes a stray strand of hair from his forehead; it is intimate, but she doesn't really think about it. he makes no move to stop her]

(Why did you marry him?)

He pushed so hard, and I thought I could do it on my terms -he agreed.

But now he's pushing me... in a way I know you never would.

And I think, it would be better with you, because you would never push me -you would let me do my own thing.

But, you know, maybe the truth is, you'd rather be with the one who pushes to be with you, rather than the one you really love, because at least you know the one that is pushing you really wants to be with you.

[she's crying, softly, but doesn't care.  he's stunned by what she has said.  with a casual grace, she carelessly wipes away the tears from her cheek with a single swipe of her small index finger, and then stands up, and walks back over to her husband, leaving him staring out at the sea -alone, where she always imagined he most wanted to be: heartbroken]

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