It’s not gonna happen.
That’s what you said.
It can’t happen.
You said that too.
Your eyes said something different, though.
It can’t, but I want it to.
Things are too complicated right now.
Your eyes were reaching for me, but your words cut the rope. The truth was drowning in that blue, no one to rescue it. Words just pushing it further and further down until maybe it never existed. Pushing it down to a place where things are stored forever. Never to be recovered.
Never to be spoken about.
It’s a place of denial and of forgetting.
At one point, this place was locked. Unacknowledged. It didn’t need to be opened because things were good.
It was happening.
It could happen.
It was the time.
Then the eyes opened the floodgates because they got nervous. Unlocked that deep down place where nothing can exist. It opened. You were swallowed up, leaving only words.
Robotic words that I’m sure you rehearsed.
Too mechanic to be pushed into that place. That place only takes real feelings and mushy gushy words that no one wants to admit were said. You don’t want to admit.
It can’t happen, I’m sorry.
It’s not the right time.