The Three of Swords Reversed

Do you remember?

All those years ago, when you would look at me without a clouded recollection.

The time before the days of silence, weeks of missed dates, months of waiting, years of anger.

A time when I would call you what's for dinner, and you'd just laugh and tell me

A time where you could write 'date' on our small shared calendar in our tiny one bedroom apartment, knowing I would see it a day later

It's been years since I have last seen you. Yet it's still too early for my yet-to-finish mending scar of where you used to reside in my heart to bear.

I wish I could tell you look hideous

I can't.

I wish you looked like you were in misery

I don't.

I wish it was me who was on your arm, dolled up all pretty, in this venue

I'm not.

I wish I had said I loved you all those years ago.

I didn't.

You are doing better than me, an accomplished writer with endless accolades that reach the sky.

I've seen your house on the news before.

It's you in a way. A way that I've seen and been with. The burgundy red that you always brought. But there's new colour. The soft pastel blues of your wife's favourite jewels. The deep purple of your son's drawings.

But I saw the muted, dull yellow peek from a corner. The same from my favourite painting. The painting you bought. I glanced at it every time we passed by that one store. I know you remember it with the two small windows that peered into a cranny of mystique.

I know you remember.

We were young, stupid, and most importantly, in love.

Your very essence has consumed me.

You moved on. I am stuck at an impasse.

I'm sorry about what I said that night when I tried to talk to you after being gone for a work trip.

I'm sorry that I missed that big book signing event.

I'm sorry I got caught up in my ambitions.

Now, we are two strangers. Strangers that are connected by a had-been and a single glance now.

You and I were meant to be, just not forever.