Did I break you? the way you broke me? It wasn't your fault, of course. Or well, it was. But you didn't mean to. You didn't wake up one day and decide "I'm going to break that man."
No, It just kind of happened that way.
We got to know each other, and as things sometime's go, we fell in love. But sometimes' love isn't enough, and as time passed our passions faded, our dreams wilted, and our desires were snuffed out. Not just our individual desires, but the dreams and passions we shared died too. Eventually there was nothing left of us, and once that final flame died we lost each other.
A life time passed before we met again. Your voice was immediately comforting in a way that only your voice is, it sounded like home. There was a spark in your eye's that could set an unguarded soul a blaze, and your smile promised a world brighter than any I could know. You were passionate, you told me about your dreams, the life you've lived, and the things you've seen.
But the longer I listened, the more noticeable the change in you was. You had lost something. You were passionate, but you were unhappy.
I tried needling the issue, gently ushering the conversation toward your unhappiness but you always changed the subject. I asked you outright about it, about why you were unhappy, but you would always deny it. You would go on at length about how you were doing okay, about how I didn't need to worry about you anymore, but I recognized the pain in your eyes as you spoke.
I worried that in truth, you still loved me. Not completely, but enough for you to have doubts about your other relationships. Enough for you to have constant regrets about what was, and what could have been. I worry that, the 'what is' will never be enough for you because you're still holding on to a "what could've been". I worry that my love broke you, the way your love broke me.
I wish there was something I could say or do to make you whole again. To make you happy. But the parts of me that died, they never came back. The lingering fragments of your love bled and broke my heart.
The only benefit to all of the pain, the pain of your departure, of us growing apart, was that the pain forced me to grow up. I haven't got as much free time to dream about the what if's, and what could've been's, there's only space for what is.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.— William Wordsmith
Every day on my way to work I used to walk past an empty lot, on the building next to the empty lot were the words "The things which I have seen, I now can see no more." I was not familiar with the poem those words were from at the time, but they resonated with me because of how concise a description they were for us in the aftermath of the earthquake (which would be why the artist chose them).
Those words stayed with me, and combined with some romanticised reflections of my own, served as the inspiration for the above story.
If you're looking for a tune to go with this story, try this one.
