Low Expectations

Maybe one day I'll meet the boy, Who decides to pick a daisy, In a field full of roses.

I can often hear it in your voice.  That tentative tone that tells me you're still testing the waters.  Still looking back at what happened.  Still afraid that once more one of us may fall. But I never did test the waters with you.  I jumped right in.  Recklessly, wildly, unabashedly.  I let myself drown in your ocean, your conflicting emotions like currents catching in me the riptide they quickly formed. And that very same riptide spat me out at open sea, far away from my shore, far away from what once was. Alone, small, helpless. So far out that no-one could hear my screams.  But here I still am, waiting for hope, waiting for rescue. Waiting for you to lose your damn cowardice and plunge into what you  and your pride created.

Maybe all we need is a break. A month or two where we don't talk- at least about the things that matter.  A month or two of small interactions- a small joke here, a small question there, get rid of those old memories haunting us everywhere.  A month or two where we go back to being strangers, back to being friendly acquaintances, back to being that odd we're-friends-but-we're-not-close that we were so long ago.  And maybe, after a month or two, we'll be able to pick back up again: A not-so-clean slate that still offers a chance for a fresh start. A 'how was your summer?' that throws us back into endless tales and uncontrollable laughter.  A hidden smile that says you still remember everything that happened, but you've chosen to bury it and let us move on. Yeah. Maybe all we need are two months.

Maybe I thought too much of you. Maybe I put you on a pedestal too high, never once realising that the higher I placed you, the harder you’d fall. Maybe I put too much trust in you. Opened myself up too much for you. Maybe I should have never treated you like you were made of crystal. For when you broke, I was the one picking up the pieces with bleeding fingers filled with the shards of something that once was. Maybe I should have never treated you like my salvation. Because once I did, I forgot how to save myself.