The Stone in Your Shoe

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.