(this is old) and its about love grown old
I guess I am the only one who still believed we would end up back together If we were just in each other’s presence again. If we revisited our old playground, it would happen on it’s own, overwhelming us into a speechless embrace. All we have now are my memories, yours have faded. You have matured past sentimentality. You have made the memories neutral as if they had just been a dream. We only exist now, not then. Maybe I’m childish, always looking back. We argue about the height of the trees in that place where we lost our virginity. You laugh when I call it a forest. You keep your distance. Do nothing extra. Detached from the time when you adored me, I understand that. I no longer know what you are thinking. My smile has no effect on you. You no longer watch my mouth as I speak. I watch yours. I am aware that I’m finding excuses to be close to you without seeming desperate. Respectful of our partners, yes. But I can’t help but feel your hate for me, even though you are so cool now. Hate left over from love that I betrayed on the day we remember silently. 7 years later and I still have things to explain, a different apology to be made, though I don’t think you would have it. It’s uncomfortable realizing I’ve become insignificant. I try so hard not to look disappointed. I recount everything, all the details I can muster, only to get an occasional smile from you. You deny certain events. You remember a lot snow. I remember only one day in particular; the day you took me sledding down the hill. I try to be a better woman in your presence, but I am reaching to please you. Your laugh is my most valued prize.
