it's not that you didn't know. or that i was a fool. it may even be, now, as it is supposed to be. because things happen for a reason. the way they are supposed to. it's an honest, legitimate theory to work under and there are myriads of anecdotal evidence to be cataloged and referenced to. ships in the night but the night didn't seem to end, until a dawn rose with some authority and could be seen at the horizon. they say on a clear day, on the ocean, on a ship that merely transports though it greatly navigates by wit and tenacity, you can see for seven miles. if the skies are clear. if the water is calm. it was all so still. sedate. and i could see the path i traveled well as i could see the one laid out before me. and the knowing helps. or helped. what has to come of us, of this immediacy, this transparency of an all too human condition. desire butted up against all sincerity, and two troubled people wielding the best of their power, embracing their humility at the same moment, again and again, that they relied and sought relief in their autonomy. her strength and her wounded heart. what cannot ever come to pass and the possibility that means, maybe, more than what might manifest if all that reluctance, trepidation and shuffling of feet were allowed to cease. if all that fidgeting fought to calm itself rather than flee the scene. because i wonder. what i could have done better. because i know it's always for the best. but it always leaves me alone. and i'm beginning to understand just how much i prefer this scuttling away under any lofty or disgraced pretense. however i get away i prefer it, no matter what it is i said that might have made you believe i wanted it more, believed in it more, would have struggled over the easy escape just to try on the outfit that would suit me up to be a part of an 'us.' our us. our something, even if it was ill-defined. better that way because i prefer the ambiguity, the rainbow of gray that lets you only choose a shade of sincerity, not soley to be sincere or deceitful. what i mean is, i wanted it. but the truth is, you flitted away. slipped through my fingers despite how i held them so close, so intently, together. i didn't want anything from you but that sincerity i spoke of. and i know now, that's what i got. and i guess, despite how i sometimes dream of you, it is exactly what i wanted. it is my preference, to be left alone.