Often I think that maybe I need one last glimpse of you, followed by a detailed conversation about why you could not speak to me about your decision. I read off text messages and your silent eyes to only barely understand this all before you left me hanging. I've come to know this was not my fault, because if you were still here, I'd still love you. I couldn't have messed up so bad to deserve this, I was on a mission after all. The end hadn't arrived (and still hasn't.) You just weren't ready while I was more than ready.
Maybe by a miracle I made the slightest difference in your life--yes, a miracle. But on the outside you act as though I never entered at all. I may have quietly and unintentionally entered your life four and a half years ago, but I did not want to walk out just as quiet. I wish I understood you, but I guess you never let me...
I will remain in high hopes that through my colloquy of heart to confession, you will come to thoroughly penetrate the very entity of my enduring fidelity.
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