So you thought you could run away
And escape unscathed.
And so you walked away nimbly, gingerly,
After a light kiss and a quick goodbye,
Without ever looking back once...
Or perhaps you furtively did
From the safe trench of the deeply tinted windows
Of your cab.
And now you\'re waking up to find
That the memories have become
A mixed blessing,
Both a treasure that fills your heart with joy
And an unbearable burden that makes you
Hurt, and heave, and hide.
But you\'ll go home soon.
At first, the pain will grow
With each passing mile
Until you ache so badly you will think
You can\'t take it any longer
And wonder if you\'ll survive.
Then routine will settle in:
Toil and fun, bills and chores,
Work, home, family and friends,
The nitty-gritty that life is made of.
It will weave its cocoon around you,
Gently, imperceptively, insidiously,
Until you\'re so entangled, so busy,
That you won\'t have time to think.
And so one day you will wake up to discover
That the pain has subsided
And we have become a blurry memory,
The stuff that forgotten dreams are made of,
A fleetingly brief dream that maybe
Never was.
Everything will have vanished and died off,
Like the scent of a long-gone perfume,
Like the ripples on the surface of a lake
After a stone has been cast.
And you\'ll forget
And think you made it away in the end.
But however smooth the surface may seem,
You may, every now and then,
When dusk gives way to darkness and quiet,
Think of the stone that was us,
Lying buried in the deep
And feel a pang,
Not sharp,
Not gentle,
Just a reminder of that tiny, imperceptible scar
Of the wound that never was.