Confessions of Letting Go

I set by and watched the pain and hurt she went through, the way she was treated, the way she reacted, the things that were said about her, about them, and the echoes of the past that still haunt her today – They all make me wish I could change one instant in history so  the effects back ripple through time so the present may be less torturous for me, for us. I know her heart ached from his shadow, a shadow that’s shaded her heart and taught her to be defensive against us all. Arrogantly I thought my warmth, my onesty, my compassion, my hand were what was needed to free her heart from its lonely cell. She was part of my daily thoughts, and I made sure it was known. I filled pages with confessions of how I felt inside. I put my heart on the line in hopes of gaining hers. I wanted her to know she didn’t have to defend herself against me. Yet, you never called unless I called first, never wrote unless I’d written the first line. I just couldn’t understand why until I realized I’d missed the silent hints. Those hidden among smiles and flirtation  Now the daily thoughts are part of the constant struggle not to call, not to write, waiting for her to make the first move. Until then I take my place in nothingness deemed the friend zone. Now, like always the written word has been my method of expression, and this is my letter of truth, emotion, and letting go.